Thursday, April 25, 2013
Evil Busted Through Some Series Forward Into Progress (an exquisite corpse)
Portrait of Bryan Keith Martin
Here is an exquisite corpse that Bryan Keith Martin and I created past March. This is actually the second one we have composed. The first one was lost in cryptic hieroglyphics due to failed outdated technological compatibility. For those who don't an exquisite corpse is a writing technique made well known by the "surrealists." I'm sure the technique dates back to DaDa and before. Basically one writes something a sentence or three or four sentences then the next person writes a sentence or three or four sentences etc. without seeing what the other person wrote. Oddly, Martin and I's collaboration often creates stories and narratives that almost happen. A psychic encounter occurs on some dimensional plane. All errors have been kept in take.
Bryan Keith Martin creates solo music under Wipe Hour. He has a new release tape called time canceller. He also is in the trans dimensional harsh noise project Hollow Bush with Rodger Stella (Macronympha notoriety).
EVIL BUSTED THROUGH SOME SERIES FORWARD INTO PROGRESS
tha wind rippled tha moonlight and sought thelost wolf howling in tha tornado.
patinaed elbow room knockin glares drenched in tudoresque plop-glaze - i see nothing wrong with this. Thus struck the harpoon upon tha man;s throat
boooting a hummingbird back to register a flown complaint busted yoke anterior headspace lisped
the spoke got caught deeply in dat mud awful mud encrusted casket
where the Lincoln plagued by a hole in his head matvhed nightshades in two color folderol
you can tellit on tha mountain when tha mountain falls in your goddamn valley. locust got loose and drove you paddywack to tha cave.
within the constraint of bullshit and ambitionless house-grokking diaorrhea john and the mouth that never finishes feeding
. The immigration of fractions will cost you dearly when that war council reconvenes in the years disordered by your daughter;s father.
ye-ar kung fu in the corner for a quarter rhymes with horrible unresourcefulnes- no lie this time just some mint stealin
The solidarity of forththought got us into the jaguar limousine grafted to the skin of a scram.
where he puked no stone - thrust upon like blade to stone thrust through in steps to shadow lake of blood foam mist yule tide
Moonlight has reversed into the womb
gallows rendition caught slime & cascade above all powered garish bowels steeped tremulously
flotsam upon the jetstream. who will tell shipwrecked brother in the mason jar exploded by figmented lightning.
when moonlike ore the hazure seas, busted infantile wiper gale
i dug with aa shovel to find the sstolen buried shovrl
pppppprowler head-stand night watch frequent snarl & bittervest mantowel
Johnny is in the field with a sack of potatos. he is crying for father the dinosaur luckless typhoid upon stone calculators
in our bizarre realm a house shivers tight yonder effluvia grandiose like some balked lottery wallop but, if it knew
i heard a car engine down in tommy's swamp. who shall tale the tell of those lost myths cuz our damn homestead is waiting to burn down in the varnish of afterthouught glistening with venom of made up spiders. friends countrymen i beseech Calabus has returned to his native solstice landscape
raised a weapon in peace heralded news-stake young shoot aproblematic & besides, gold is shorn a quote
who will tell us now about the crimean woa--war--bobby is angry at tommy the cop. I have seen the calander angry at one single day. who gonna tell your momma off at tha carwash. i aint no hooligan
smell my robot SMELL MY ROBOT breakdown in fluid relations angled garbled textion souped-out fawn break nose cauldron air
burst the poppy where tha penicillin leaks, neath the wound of hospitality
give garden tips / brown alloysius fallow mistake lost lied / growth yanked but never some readable
iam a sailor lost in the forest of elegies. he had a stroke before any good fortune could burst outta that concrete fortufortune cookie.
problem problem dredged maniacl qbert if you made one spitoon it has potential to sproing upon the page asunder
grimace the orgy all is unfinished spoke thus alike tommy's the sheriff.
"he will never work again until he gets a job", said Daily Hands himself, comin in outta the evil rain
B.B gun struck with the violence of coagulated fire ants. i will stare out the window and dream of staring out a window where i siop slipping breaths . Golden dawn you have absconded into cleveland rust. i do not play chess cause i have too much patience.
it was jazz what set them all aprt - put a loud maintenance grind pallets value fat to steak
. Wash the wound where the blackberries sprout. the moon was a silver cataract when mother was murdered in her shiny cadillac late friday night.
auld wyfe eggs threnody nest
. I don;t need no yarn upon my pillow drenched with blood and sweat. kill the mountain when you hear the cannon belch rawhided industrial solvent.
thankful colonists chore their cabbage but it's the life that makes a meal, want of nutrition or salinity
He owns a gun and we shall not tell you where he divulged the hiding process.
By Bryan Keith Martin and Matthew doyal Pony Payroll Bones Proctor
Climbing Jacob's Ladder April 2013 M doya ponY Proctor
Writing is a vision. Climbing into the divine and experiencing the flesh of imagination.