From 'PLOMB DANS LE FILLET'
(...)
-"He called it a sur-materialist's a-poetics... 'an a-symmetrical flow-field of unconscious production interrupted by funnel-like consciousness at irregular intervals. Consciousness or whatever name you wish to give it, I mean the awareness thus ingrown to form a transparent network of immaterial regulations, a rhitzome, inside the Mind-mold. Thin sheets, a network of hairs, interrelated at every point- or folded nodescapes of string-like-layers, interconnected dimensions in a sense like a wig inside the skull, - it funnels, directs, and are shaped by this dark ludic energy outside without shape or form, located as it is in mindful absolute noos-space as well as in the mega-verse as a whole as a holistic formation...' and she showed me his sack where she kept the net. Like an enormous attractive presence in the sack, the philosopher's head sprung open and lead inside drew us near, until we were consumed by his brain. The lead in the net pierced through the core of the earth and straight to the universe before location the center in our souls. At that moment we became present throughout the universe, simultaneously we had become time-space itself. Pure gold. Pulse Being. Lost in what seemed like an eternity, we were suddenly and violently pulled out of our bliss and back into the template of the reality efflorescent. Seconds ticking away, the gravitational attraction came like from nowhere. This enormous but still gentle force lovingly pulled our attention away from that funnel of sheets it so erotically displayed for us as eternity. It was shy to show us that it was the point of all points, the only monad, the one substance constituting the megaverse, the noosphere, reality and thought. It drew us near, we pushed towards it's invisible center located in our own minds. But just as instantaneously as before we were back in our old clothes in the bowels of the world again. We had entered a critical phase on Tellus Earth, he assured me of this in ni uncertain terms. From now on, he said, we were both in the world, but yet not of it".
Labels: POEMS BY HARL
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