Rodrigo Toscano

Pyongyang, if you’ll please, STOP appearing in the poem like this— unannounced * In writing to your Pomomomo (that special critical topos between an ideolophe fahtha’ and a para-juridical muhtha’) This-side-of-the-Hudson Psycho-Acoustics Jangling— Claim you what? “We call it dead in the wa wa don’ mean jacky bits” “Pyongyang” * But it does... as an In Walk Bud flips the whooole session on its head lexicals in range clash and dash out patch 14ths off the scale to perfect fifths effects REACT rather more differently than before with “Pyongyang” in there * And “Quetzalcoatl” Lands on “Tarragon” jangling it? If that’s where the Nitro’s stored, in “Tarragon” bird’s already been blown off feathers falling field’s been re-charged * And “Thatcher?” as guest jaw-harp soloist? The E.U.’s formative contradictions unresolved? some kill in that cut— you got the mic,pomomomo make a ho’ youself and Maggy and us

from a distance almost festive rippling in the morning breeze soft conversations great piles of scallions a pungent sun illuminates the faces of young girls she keeps grabbing them, straightening out their roots and tails in a little gesture of self-consciousness, she pulls her sweater away from her face knocks the dirt off, ties a rubber band around them Ejido San Quintin all are packed in ice and shipped to Great Britian __________ from a distance almost restive rising on the 20th floor clipped conversations great piles of papers a humming fax machine illuminates the faces of young girls they keep grabbing at her, straightening out her hands and fingers in a little gesture of self-consciousness, she pulls her sweater away from her face lifts it off the paper tray, sticks a sticky on it Ejido San Quintin all are packed in ice and shipped to Great Britian __________ from a distance almost resistive basking in the building’s fluorescent light algebraic conversations great piles of direct objects a deadened emotion illuminates the faces of young girls he keeps changing them, sorting out the nouns and verbs in a little gesture of trained-consciousness, he quickly minimizes the screen from his face knocks the dirt off, ties a rubber band around them Ejido San Quintin all are packed in ice and shipped to Great Britian __________ from a distance almost imperceptive breezing through the morning frequencies anxious reservations great piles of diners a poetry audience illuminates the faces of young girls she keeps grabbing them, straightening out their roots and social whereabouts in a non-literal gesture of class-consciousness, he pulls her sweater away from her face knocks the dirt off, ties a rubber band around them Ejido San Quintin all are packed in ice and shipped to Great Britian __________ from a distance almost assertive shuffling through the evening news moot conversations great piles of rotting vegetables a pungent spin-off literature illuminates the faces of young girls it keeps grabbing him, chopping up his roots and raison d’êtres in a tactically abstract solidarizing gesture of class-consciousness, she peels his self conscious piece away from her face knocks the dirt off, ties a rubber band around it Ejido San Quintin all are packed in ice and shipped to Great Britian _________ Ejido: A landholding community owned collectively by its members. In 1992, the Mexican congress (largely at the behest of Wall Street) passed legislation aimed at watering-down Article 27 of the Mexican Constitution (guaranteeing the fundamental economic and cultural rights of the ejidos), opening the way for the privatization and commercialization of the lands, thus rendering the peasants’ political gains (stemming from the Mexican Revolution of 1910- 1917) effectively moot.

Like being reassigned to a case being made—to win? for a world mocked-up—terms to contest? Or,self glutting the market of experience— am am, a did this that— as “voice” script? Or, reining in the thrusting impulse that’d burst—out! and into. . . timed pattern a male’s—“mine?” Or, a hyper-local cultural thing—to do— conscious stance between friends strung along? Or, some gnawing negation—impelling all this? din’ wanna (really did) am “writing?” Or, being dispatched to a cramped corner of the vast. . . work-a-day transactions transmission? Or, alibis for (if not from) the near Black Out— detecting vital signs or dissent? Or, The National—reifying itself—can read? preemptive authorships as “progress”? Or, a once-elitist practice—popularized— aimless youth called forth—I came (aimed at?) Or, recombinant ruses of power—“allure”— who writes who here—and how sex—transects? Or, Capital’s quandaries of identity— certified— the stakes—now lowered? raised? Or, malingering with History’s inducements— disciplined we won’t be though are—need? Or, a schedule of vanguardist—occupations— vacuum left by the left to fill out? Or, the Nors that can’t be stated (just yet) can—mean? forming trends at the base asserting? Or, wouldn’t non-pop perspectives be also writ? discursive bumps and grinds to report? Or, logging on to a collectivizing—chance? bodies here plunked down—will plunk up. . . toward? Or, newly glozed invectives—to desublimate? old belles lettres upgraded downplays gain? Or, the pervasive liberinage of Genres— which clothes which strips which—for thrills—mostly? Or, a progressivist (scientistic)—complex? regrounding the grounds (props dignity? Or, an overdue reunion with precedence— compulsion to just flake kept in check? Or, why did you come—to hear something you don’t know? already— sorting terms— assigned to? Or, a realization of what’s yet unrealized— postscript or preamble to praxis?

Tha’ vahnahnah go-een to keel joo. Excuse me? Tha’ vahnahnah    ...    go-een to keel joo. I’m sorry, I don’t understand. O’ káy. Sô    ...    vahnahnah haf sostahnence, nô? Uh — O’ káy. Ees troo if  joo haf sostahnence, joo problee leev anothe’ thay? I suppose so, look — Alrigh. If  joo ee tha’ vahnahnah, joo weel be leeving ôp a-hed, righ? Yeah alright, so? O’ káy. Are joo thy-een now? What? Are joo thy-een now — a’ thees momen? I hope not. O’ káy. Ees troo    ...    ôp a-hed — joo thy some poin? Of course. Alrigh, sô, vahnahnah poosh you there. Um. Tha’ vahnahnah go-een to keel joo, baby.

5-2001 (as on TV) Welcome to this special edition double cortege for Galbraith, Kenneth— Friedman, Milton— ssstately cortege... efffusively-shiny like your kids teeth— ...such éclaircissement on this beautiful morning lustrum (kids, that’s Latin, we mean to say “wow”) ...directly behind the caskets—is that —it’s the Macy’s Rat (in mid-air)...neat, real neat... in front the lead-coated horses don’t seem to mind the officers’ droppings... is that a gigantic molar, with worms popping out? —such a variety of colors! ...look, some Teamsters are in a tussle with some scab teletubby over on 23rd St. and Madison ...ok, now, now they’re under arrest... if you look carefully you’ll see there’s two pre-funeral exercises for Fukuyama, Francis— Soros, George— on 24th —not, not as stately... a delegation of mainstream poets! and behind them, this year’s NPR security-clearance float!...ooh... ya, they’re rather new at this but...wait— there’s a lone guerrilla girl running through the crowd now she’s she’s managed to get the Cultural Studies delegation to strip and dress up as squeegee-bearing babushkas it looks like ...it’s 20 degrees so, that’s rather—ok, she’s, she’s under arrest now... ...those are neat, those little plastic thingies, aren’t they?... The Bill Gates (My Charter) High School Marching Band! The Steve Case (My Charter) High School Marching Band! behind them the post ’89, post-historical acrobat academics on mini-lawnmowers... that’s smart... The Yucky’s! The Yucky’s, yeah, they’re an interesting group... they do things like suppress that Sidney Poitier is the best American actor ever ...oh look, the Fahd ibn Abdel Aziz al-Saúd float ...the F14’s behind him are real ...now,that’s smart! ...I think he just waved at me ...who’s that man with the Monocle grabbing his— that’s Mister Modernist! he’s been a regular at these events for over 90 years now ...Saga of The Blank Page float a real favorite... ooh, he just dropped his—wait a babushka—her, her boot’s— crkkkk... oh, that’s, that’s not good...but —did you know that these are the first 100% soy caskets ever made? some people have actually run up to nibble at them... kids, if you’re watching this... make sure you never think of any other social arrangement other than one that Militarily Has To Dominate Three Quarter of The World