The River in the Capsule (first 25 leaves)

The River in the Capsule (sing the ,miners, cicada-like) - (1986) first

The River in the Capsule by Carles Reig (1986) [first delivery]

Beautiful dancer

Beautiful dancer


Oh what a beautiful dancer — is cancer!
It pirouettes at the end of each of the assizes — and it metastasizes!
And then performs a pas de quatre — in a lovely pitter-patter
Pounding lungs liver bone and brain — with corrosive feet of acid rain.

more of the same (through the same glass, from different angles?)

Outside the waiting cone, inside as bolt-bestowing Jupiter she


(Outside)


The vigilant isolated cone


His lamentation a wonder waning down the fading hedgerows
with night his infatuation as queer cosmologies
are amid snores drawn
vain metamorphoses among the cobblestones

and weeps the wind
and the progress of the horses’ lips is something to behold
anomalies of a martyr in triumph unmasked

vague bricolage of rotting driftwood
adorns his hirsute skull

the lava of abstruse dialogue pounding his heart
with the archipelagian intricacy of a sorrowful paranoid

metabolizing all these perfectly coherent seawaves of sympathies
so that the outpour becomes in stupor the pith
(the evil abject wisdom-filled pith)
of the insidious puppet whose archaic hat – its tip – crateral spouts
(never ashamed of its acerbic cruelty)
the cathartic stabs of the richly pledgeful sophist
with gloves of acquiescent semiotics
as the foundering orchestra of the tempest has lost delirium

foreshortened peak of conspicuous anonymity
neither epileptic nor grisly
nor any longer harvesting risks and stunts
nor yet gaining harmonic momentum
as for now the old cadence
stunted falters...
and dies.


(***)



(Inside)



from the kitchen window, she


it’s the adventure of the universe —
going nowhere fast —
noisy flares, bursts galore, signifying shit

alas once more the aircastle collapses... utterly


(...)


next thing she knew the doorbell tolled

something bilious this way comes


(...)


the fetus being the phallus

she fucks me with the newest son of some lover

that lover’s latest son enters me
even before he has altogether exited her

oh mystical trinity
wrapped in triphthongs
soon converted into another trivial carnal quadrangle
even a quincunx
(who knows)


(...)


follows the appointment
the appointment (duly dully met) of scabrous sentences
in a background where a plangent violin casts its cobwebs

shameful wasp trapped
in their crudest most arcane recesses
leaking like a raincoat

incipits of otiose melodies where with grotesque anguishes
the tenacious nymphomaniac
seduces the rotting lured sacrificial simulacrum


(...)


choked by the sneaky snake

intimations of exorbitant techniques

somehow I’m sure that such eucharist
turns the pungent quondam androgynous


(...)


embryo’s elixirs whose absorptions prove an ecstasy of sorts

but uterus thieving is the emblem of the satirist

a truce; a truce, will you?


(...)


bleeding aspersions collect a phantasmagoria of sublime convictions
as the chasm of routines gapes monotonous


(...)


we’ve faced the violation with seeds courageous
and poisons futile

with the fluency of the mnemonist
I’ve descried great billows and frenetic shipwrecks
broken telescopes and several other intricacies
in the naivete of the tiny aquarium


(...)


predatory innocence
ephemeral anxieties

the gutter is no tightrope


(...)


with the advent of the senile yawn of the earth
the cuckold whips up his ludicrous impulses

into its fungible void the parasite’s been caught


(...)


the panic of insomnia
gives way to the won aesthetics

newly replenished, the profaned hole
by lyres lauded
teasingly hears tame aubades


(...)


ah the luxuries and feverish cinema
of a schoolgirl’s erotic phenomena

betwixt sundry cosmetics
accessories
and saucissons!


(…)


wait, the rancidity of sweat
the groans and sanctimonies
the circumspect trespass of the unfaithful aurifex
plus a knot of vestiges of distaste

convoluted cormorant of the promiscuous and abhorrent

all in all, humped sinistrous, the lubricious epilogue


(...)


with venereal abrasive harmonies
of forensic intricate tautologies
and splenetic disconsolatingly erotic oxymorons
in prodigious scale the jewel’s been lost


(...)


and now the punctuated sequels

one, the voiding inaccessible
two, the tumescence borderline
three, the chaos of moths...

the fungal tropes
the atrophied hyperboles
the inharmonic knees

the anachronistic witness
his basket of fantasies

the epistemic orphan
the marooned ballerina

the erratic bucolic nonsense
the wrecked athlete

the benevolence of the deathbed

plus
the enigmatic levity of distilled snow.


////

An X, not an Y

An X, not an Y



She's not happy coming down the stairs
with her green wide-winged hat
and her green close-fitting dress
so elegant she and kind of divine
but no, she's not glad at all today
having just had notice that all her children
had been killed abroad.

We that are left are not allowed to enjoy the day
the sand the crickets the écrevisses... nothing
nor the helpless wee birds just born into the hot ice.

Sad, we've got to be also sad
we've got to check our enjoyment of life
our greediness for what our senses sense.

And so through the night full of bourdonnements
button by button slowly until the dark cape's undone.

She's such a vision though
when with the sun she tosses away her green dress
and walks naked down the strand.

All nature revives then and my dreams with it
and into the white clean clothes the tip of my tippity prick.

How eager then all for her benediction
unfledged birds naked insects fetuses... all.

And me an earth-filtering worm squirmy of contentment
definitively annexed
definitively annexed now to her all pure purple core!

sip sip and something else

tapering off the undulating ululated oaths



plus... (plus... hold tight, for here it comes...) (I’m joking)

holding tight to the ghastly heavens
the strategies of noxious soiled corners...
their seizure over the inhabitants is a classic of intimacy

any sweep squeezed through the littery banality of wonderland routines
even if repulsive as the rudest of solipsisms
instils a fog of reasons and goals worthy enough to be imagined in a ceremony
of intelligence across the autumnal system of preliminary curiosities...

what’s left if not the sycophantic twin fugitive anarchies of light and torture?
(ha ha... clever!)

the peristaltic anecdotes brim with obstreperous copulations
and a frivolous accretion of other healthy catastrophes

the old susurrus of the whore aesthetics that earlier arose misused
contemporarily through a process of scandalous landscapes regain substance

only that the shrinking of the sphere impinges on the mind
psychotic devious abuses are rife
both titans and servants... their grimy nerves wrinkle in exasperation
a conundrum is the (deflating) result
where insane rituals forcibly intervene
fakeries (what’s new?) stand vicarious on the pantheon

a bath of bald fervent senility is encouraged
its squalid consequences impugn any argument

all supine as they sip (sip sip)
apologizing the while and underhanded to the waste implicit in one’s brain

ceremonies rush in (you said it)
voices through giant pierced bones... annoying whining swearings
(useless useless) wagers clearly infernal
ostensible haunting lurid hysterias

outlaws prosper (when didn’t they?) by degrees
the rotting waves of legifying authorities (vain outlaws themselves)
their soft devastations... their pretty homicides always allowed by judges
lethargic puerile motiveless (in complicity)

cohesion amongst the exiled colleagues is never invalidated...

the vexed are farmed out for extermination
a traffic of shrikes
an underworld of withering courage... of languid scented lethality...

the originating types wiped flat out

the rest sending their bleary lidless eyes aloft
toward the domestic ceilings
reclusive unassisted
shelling the sundry episodes out of curiosity
the risks once taken... the oaths uttered...
the weightless ephemerides unsounded

a toasted slap to our consensual slot
the dominance spectrum tenaciously deceives every facet of the stereotype

chameleonizing oneself according to the labyrinthian peculiarities
shifting the degree of depiction... pithy new tendencies emerge

rejecting all antagonism... the epochs... their arrow collapses

the specter of food... a structure glued with alarm
comminates anyone to evisceration

the wolves’ candidate vehemently erodes any satire from the subconscious
intrepid antagonist who concocts orphan gothic banalities
by refusing to shove in or even invoke about any verdict

the rest parade faintly fed
with a clumsy mask embalmed
their optimistic obituaries impress joy of a certain kind

cloying pimps
vindictive denizens whose amnesic fingers sap the historical doctrines
fool eavesdroppers devoted to corruption and wither
rhetorical authoritarians assaulting the blurred benevolence of the abolished structures

the title-holders trying to persuade the reluctant that all crimes of aggression
are a refreshing success for the skin of the heinous planet
the eloquent always... the eloquent and their lapses where every logic is traduced
(I’m lost... lost)

only the wittols are capable of shedding as scattering statues
the bright charismatic torchings of optimism
over the absent serpent that veers to further opacity
as they accommodate themselves to every emancipatory dilemma

are we just subordinate entities flushed up by dumb contingency
and bound non-stop to hidings strenuous
as those to which the anonymous have always been prone

or... or...? (were you going to say something else
you piece of viscous crap?)

for there’s no clarity as the one brought by the wearisome quarry of skepticism
(agh... agh... I’m gagging...
what a vile... vile... vile conclusion... again!)

ceaseless waves

love me or kill me






that’s the reality

ceaseless waves of useless assholes

crummy bunches of fortuitous cells thinking the world off themselves

(and the stupider thinking also the world of themselves)

(for the more they think the stupider they get)

futile duels

breasts
fanned fat fated to climax in flowers of rot

I’ve become my wife’s sister
whip me to shreds

monster evoked in diaphoretic stupor

down on my knees
filthy whore

the globe stifled
the crude specimens from the antipodes
scattered
luscious threads of ashes crooked

white of eyes of a dumb statue

candidly led
blindman to the weapon

a statue oughtn’t gulp

gobs of semen

seamen inside

drowning

all drowning

globe of fire

mute universe

unless...

now now

deafening sounds of mud splattered under massive feet.

a fleece

a fleece



immune to the heaven pap
the eerie humanoid proliferated
a parasite of herbivores

from a window on the ethics branch
an academic archer deemed his aim
as fairly tidy when he misfired

gifted as I am in many fields alas
– he construed – in this field I’m not

he could’ve killed the ewe that gave us milk
and wool all in the pursuit of his eager intent
that was by killing the host killing the alien invaders
which were ultimately just an anachronism
tossed by contingency on our lamentable present

be it as it may his belligerent attitude
far from epistemic astonished us all
that out of the hallowed guts of our matrix
the twisted retort of his gun shat thus those foul ingredients
of nugatory import instead of pausing
sitting down and abstracting
the indispensable thoughts that later would direct us
to the undeniable sempiternal truth
that is always that every new issue explodes
already attired with sculpted latent flawless instructions
when fallen from the great beyond

through the archer’s keen eyepiece
we saw on the ewe the humanoid horde
carousing and woolgathering on its fuzz
how cute they looked and surely there stood imprinted within them
the dawn of yet more fun

they sank in camouflage or if they emerged they prosperously beamed
at us gnarly buff strangers (to them)
(in virtue of our pesky distant inquisitiveness
of our dingy invasive gall
we humbly even sheepishly realized
oddly unsettled and in a reverie)

simultaneously by our professorial now turncoat archer
we were told that in essence those lofty nomads had already earned
their place amongst us
no scandalous notion that
for none of us needed
any type of persuasion as to the intricacies of the universe

...

how dumb could we be
the abyss is always borne in by the ubiquitous winds of contact
every invasion is hellbent on annihilating the invaded
either on the short run or the long one
together by the fast commission and the protracted omissions afterward

but only dying (if then) you know better
so that for the nonce we mentally wished them a satisfactory journey back
after they were finished with us of course
and forthwith in resignation and in deep empathy
with our sudden contiguous contemporaries we burned while leisurely walking
to the mountains the university

alone and unfed and fairly shorn we glimpsed
the compelling spectacle of their flambuginous erections

nothing dismayed they tore or gnawed at the roots and underpinnings
of our vast civilization soon abstracted into virtually a flop

oh well – we ejaculated – no need to stir too tempestuously
our so properly stunted emotions
let’s never be tempted by the elusive ignitions of occupational contaminants
we shall all sooner or later intertwine in the womb of warmed total reversion

by the erring pathogens desecrated
our sequences all disrupted
we grew defaced
while the gestures of our enemies became by and by from roughly woeful
to rather surfeited or if you will anguished
we thought they would have taken a recreational hue to them but no
their very multitudinousness indeed the strictures
of overpopulation debunked each degree of hope
or desire that they might have ever entertained

we had organized meanwhile into columns of poachers
the pedantic and the skeptic cloven only by a mob
of so-called heroes whose single claim to heroism was
the hysterical fires they brought back so that we should exuberantly
burn also and all in vain the obdurate mountains

it was really peculiar the way our furtive weaving now into their webs
bore such striking parallels to their first having woven themselves
into our all at once genial curiosity and uneasy reluctance

at first as we were dissoluble we were also by their red prismatic eyes
unseen but then after some reasonable hesitations
they – some of them that apparently clung more forcefully than the rest
to their squalid sense of patriotic fadoodle – tried to thwart our smiling hints
the psychotic hints of a loser who
secret thinker he about the inaccessible and consequently more enticing
brashly sets willy-nilly to conquer adjoining spaces

...

we always thought it to be (and no offense) virgin territory – we coyly
adduce as we adjourn and head infective for their center: a fleece
wherein now we lurk by dint of having kept at it almost everywhere

the new sequence abolishes the essence of the first dispute
now are we who seek either to dissolve their aim and efficacy
or soberer to harmonize the draining ebbs and flows
of our heroes’ stupid prowesses

our misgivings in a nutshell are that once bald the new bed
wherein the recently deceased shall invariably be laid and burned
to oblivion gone
(the well-known senseless loop being from one to many to none again)
our wealth of lame pleasures... chortles... grins... shocks...
proved in fine to have been after a while
another hoax or else too ponderous a barren egg of emptiness

our atrophied tendrils intrinsically binding no more the baned blades
that a neurologist would maybe have once conceived as supportive as
a dry cataphracted box wherein trances and ecstasies to enjoy
aplenty and maximal spams of an erotic clandestine... veiled... unnerved...
nature... wallowing then in subtly melancholic superfluities...
with us insectile phantoms lastly waning in the gloom

our antennae orphaned meanders decaying into sewers

our adult fantasies of occupancy famously thriving
of promiscuity booming... now drastically fondled into resolutive disease

sentenced anew to the sharp apprehension
that we nonetheless must agree to the disquieting proceeds
ensuing from our contempt for the boring injunctions
that had every insanitary foe (and more with a yen for incorporate space)
sent packing down a uniquely paved velvety shortcut
to the indiscriminate pulp of the anonymous tomb

...

but wait... down the road
awkward crows in embarrassment discovered
from scratching the muddy wastes where devils once dwelt
the coincident shares of our flaming oils

and hence they were relatively thankful for the triumph
of annihilation for – must they have inferred – what better fate
for an intellect of our lurid genre that to be immersed in the fluency
of foulness... the skills we showed in maintaining always the incoherent
rages of childhood... reverting every chance we got into the mainstream legacy
of pride... made us as them right deservers of another feathery shrug
a feathery shrug indeed
all invaded with
eerie
humanoids
tinily
engrossing
as the hours ticked