From “blood rhetoric”, forthcoming from Black Editions Press…

bloodrhetoric.jpg (2)
…dead end pageant shredded from the commence nothing of to gain closure of the wound as once said reveals the tangent ice drifting throughout in a cold chase of bitten oxide shiv of redeem nothing much to echo of where skyline broken dissolve what held silver as if to collapse birthing the kiss of scarlet nothing ever beknown till call cards nothing of as if to ever had in foreign of soldered the mouth across till fissure smeared the pit of sky wrenching the hilt of distance shattered nothing of the belong where worm of turn cold silhouette never to have begun where till nonchalance bitten of in echo trace waste desire & the fallen promise of what once was never nothing till dream of excommunicate a wrenched pulse bulb all distances mockery tilt of shit scattered to the desert clime it is of the none stun abound as if what mattered folient trace occlude sickness of till dredge we of the gouged socket the rip of flesh in the dark a trace of sudden exile the breakage of bones shattered remnant of what once was to be all forgotten no prayers from the deep eye is of the plague what willow drenched in amber blood sucking the vellum artifice a silence never known held to the sheared breast the snapped spine judgement claim or not what ever aligned sudden as if to falter where to occlude respondent nothing of the devour silver yes or no as onward into shale closure of wound extricate a hollow shadow drifting throughout the in-dreaming of sudden as if to falter knocked from one pageant frenzy to the offset we come one it says instantly erased throughout a cold dark echoing of the bleed we rapture silence nothing of abounding as was before were to if what be fingers upon cold glass night upon cold breath the oxide terse what of till blood of sickness driven in the reek of some roomscape a closed door the elixir of where absenteeism is the fall from some effigy & the redempt of spinal affluence nothing of the speech what once negating its own prism purpose dead as a lie what wormed throughout cold spam night endless from the above what closure taint the stain upon where nothingness absolute wherein what walls the meat hooks sway a vibrate of discoloured orchids & the breath of death what promise from throughout as were what from the stench reek effortless where the meat torn to shreds is the colourless appeal of splayed blood the collapse of all whereby no nothing graven to fall it is said a vibrate of disappearing echoing birthing into what sleep deprivation eye spies it knows no nothing whereof acclimatized sucks down opiate unspoken torn from the this or that stricken depth of waters no broken silences the voice collapsing upon what once was hilt till shred of laughter breakage as dissolve cold death in a winter gutter…
 
…given that was once colde clear blade slicing through the membrane of collapse where rooms warped in to consume bloodless cold weight trace of blood-smeared eyes echoing of the long distance tasted whereby nothing of throughout where dissolute shadowy nocturne meat’s vibrate & the terse will silhouette passing through the body vocal nothing of where the jaws gape sudden as if to the teeth vibrating in amphetamine dark it taste nothing of broken valves of none for hereafter sickened unto breathe sickened unto expel as if from once dead bones & the shit-streaked lie colour it this of which given nor raped in the dawn of else becoming taint the like of which cold shoulder a razor tint to garotte endlessly the farewell to nocturnes sickness bile of once stratae nothing left of the syphilitic air where to reek is to absolve in the none of ever-having sudden to roll out the dice of nothing shit in the veins a vibrate a subtle aspect till close of door we lungtish spit lest of speech bled out from circuit tide all gathered from the begun not a trace of some shadow of despair flowing throughout the body broken vault of distemper not a chance from outset promise it what in a lie of restless foreign not a trace of sky where all eradicated it speaks in tongues distance of which rocking back & forth in the blood of haven the glint in the blade akin to the listless teeth till sung aloft what will nectar of the divide & the sexless waste of burning charred or other flesh it seeketh colourless appeal where to never had where bones warp in the given of expire sucks upon devours the pelts peeling away to reveal the spine the nothing given from outset ever to expire where shit is once dragged from the kick & silence never less than of silently eroded fallen to fall colours the like of which dense skull shimmer in the insane of fucked kaleidoscope dancing across the gait where to warp the light is to smear the flesh of all that once all distances to retrace where shadow blackened onset closure of the unsung a cold hand across vibrant flesh herein till lay across where nothing ever speechless in the drag of pulse till closure eye alongside none of which in the null of listless ever of to fall a scattering of scrags of meat as mentioned coiling their winds into the breathe of unspoken till die what once yet manifold taken from the begun a whisper a candle snuffed out…
 
 
…sentient nullity of the broke stone body vocal no longer the vast of which the closure eye of blood foreign through the film of skin stretched taut a dichotomy of shit where sulphate rhythm of echo-echo draft is the lack ever-known clear cut bone of listless unto ‘morrow felt a locus of abort in the dis-ease of an extraction of teeth bone blinded by sleep & the cauterized wound where throughout is the nullity beating its breast steel light excommunicable lights stripping the pelt night the sarcophagus confetti burning in the naught of speech reclamation die a long tide dead winds caressing the outspoke nothing given of what dense bereft where bile is the taste in the foreign mouth that knows no words to pin it all down upon a carrion fly insert the syringe let it ochre null death spinning its circles through what wishbone to collect as nothing ever of reek pageant ever of the glaze of blood rhetoric upon the stillness taint upon nothingness a vacuous space trace what will nothing other than for tomorrow’s tide it done in for the clasp weight bone weight flesh upon from which the bodily vocal a room with a view the atrocity of given carnival of dreaming where to have is to hold nothing of in savior promise vapour tones & the breakage of cold stone amber ejaculate a glow of mist in the eyeline nothing of the sky long forgotten as see what see blood foreign never of the siege it what once nothing of the silhouette tracing its cold blade across where flesh once uttered dreaming-in of the next to follow as if to fade where nothing ever was a mark a solace no tearing out the lungs of speech cast to the dawn of what words fallen to the sides in the defeat of all before the pointless knelt before subtle rapture subtle rage & the tearing of sudden as if to fall in the sick stun grasp of silence ever-permeating till die what once alone throughout on any given as if what once till vibrate knocking upon light collide it is once in the absurd shit-smeared a taste of foreign night where alone breakage of where film nothing left or other as if from the commence was once to devour from socket gouge & the forgotten nothings of silence drag of chain throughout the flesh to erupt violent temperate the body vocal nothing ever of where blood rhetoric is the unknowable forgotten it stands alone it does not it seeks it does not it spits the broken teeth from it is not it never was & it will not as sarcophagus it close fist around the throat of lifeless shattered bone a mouth full of leeches & broken glass till cast aside a whipped canine cornered devouring its own shit such is the grace of it not a trace of ever of beneath a skyline that could have never have…
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“Meat Sequence” (After Francis Bacon/ 2014)

FrancisBaconImage

1…fleshed sequence shadow meat/ once/ all at once yet no/ nothing in shadow meat’s align/ the blood calm as untold mimicries/ by sense devoured the meat devoured/ informed by the light which is not meat yet of/ pageantry else yet too/ meat traces meat it is the sun of nothing/ the sum total of nothing in/ none for the sequential of becoming once/ in/ the totality of lack strips emblems from meat’s winds/ head stun yet other than/ bone structures to end the sum non-total total/ swims in/ blood meat’s current/ lapses no/ suffers blind unto the white of the eye’s flame it in the reflective of/ ache lapse it is of the/ unreality of the/ meat sounds its purposeless in the night/ the un-given of/ the / dalliance is with sky/ is a jester’s promise/ where only else resides…
2…meat unto collapse/ stead lapse/ the lung’s abort in headless barrage the head is/ traces the/ meat’s sarcophagus is the light surrounding/ the forms that bind the subject-object/ being in this from onset’s claim/ the stripping down of/ in gradual of irreversible/ meat does not climb it cannot/ it/ blind limit of/ in/ in conflict there its sense fed to the/ nausea all in the face of/ the sunken eye divulged of meat/ the meat that is the figure’s construct/ gallowing from bone/ opulent the sickness-pity for/ from unsung/ carved out of/movement through nothing the flesh/ clamouring/ cascading yet inward and then yet none/ the laughter of the meat is silent/ the its’ cajole/ meat’s blood spills out of vacuum presence/ meat is not void the head is void in conflict there the meat devoid of/ un-sound…
3…the piss/ cum/ shit of celebratory nothing/ the ruptured meat weeps from the skin’s bind/ bound upon as if it/ or/ in that/ celebratory excavations before the foot of none/ meat’s saving graces in ejaculative/ voidal/ or the introspect of needle/ cunt penetrate/ rectal/ the mutilation of/ meat is the worst possible beginning-ending/ it/ other than/ the head lopped off sings to the solar anus of the eye’s mind percept/ though of or or/ not from the give or the taking from of flesh/ is it/ the head is bone the body boned yet/ unto the sky there is no end it perceives the flesh null and void/ yet in the meat of the percept/ even the fault of which applies/ the whole is not correct merely because it is of the exist/ it does not burn unless it is set to/ light…
4…object of/ scar tissue silences/ yet/ meat stings of the echo-wound/ the bound devour of in/ meat has forgotten/ the head as object desires the other it/ all stripped/ sung from the broken amulets of memory’s shades of silent wasteland/ yet the meat/ still scarred/ collapses under the weight of/ consumption/ because it be/ it can yet be other/ it cannot be other than without choice/ the meat sings blood and sense yet it does not sing of final/ meat is arbitrary/ it sings in pleasure yet it does not sing aloft/ but in the expulsion of desire/ in which none is known/ terms wishes granted it/ dragging out the carcass of it into the light flaying the spectral knowledge/ the meat suffers/ it is a rabid dog in the midst of silence/ seeking to be annihilate/ yet…
5…fleshed on in-step/ bled from/ what is it/ this/ in this is felt yet no/ not of/ in animus of collective taste/ the bleed of asking yet/ bound to/ the face’s demolition/ the smearing of/ hence it lacking identic/ special all as if reverberating sound in cylindrical/ yet meat’s taste is of the flesh it/ sombre ash in the guts/ in the defecate of that already final/ as for the mock bind of sex the interchange and shift of parameter/ meat still yet entwined in the tint of desire’s persistent edge/ all spun together between the animal and the/ obscenely bound to the nothing that is/ if/ where from yet in grip of marrow beneath the flesh’s desertion in/ else never truly penetrating/ the cock lacking the hyenic bone will/ legs splayed/ a cunt exposed/ a rectum/ skinned the purpose of in the thrust of meat and the beckoning void/ of it…
6…the escape from flesh/ momentarily through flesh the loss of being in/ subtle cataract of none/ escapade of/ the blood coming to the eyes the cum coming to the fore/ blind-sighted/ then/ yes or no/ base flesh and the blood-red passage through night/ in machinate of/ over again as if to/ yet never the escape from/ not conscious deliverance nor conscious bite/ having bitten the wick between anguish and desire/ chased by the none of exigency and lack/ of final edge and of/ red raw yet no/ of the blood no unless asked of/ the flayed will reduced to ashen/ scar scar a long the indent of emblem bitten dredge/ the frenzy of/…/all the while the meat slowly erased/ in definite stead/ the sense of final and over and again/ until/ bled out from circus tint of blood/ bone lack…
7...the Figure’s lock in conditioned space/ cylindrical or no yes or no the smear/ the face obliterated/ frozen/ fleshed and death-like frozen in parameter/ shock red against the obscenity of transparent walls/ for all time until the rot of/ a shadow-play/ a terse/ the head divorced beyond recognition yet it bites the sky/ from a viscera of teeth exposed/ from fleshed decomposure of the gait’s gouge/ swarm/ it sits it does not sit it waits/ the marrow seeping through the skin of the surface’s deception/ of the what lies beneath/ all the while the movement/ the bled or blooding out of/ the ongoing that will not allow for breath/ meat tomes in shadow’s trace/ matter what matter of/ but yet what wishful thinking…
8…the bone’s vibrate/ the sinew of/ placement between death and desire/ sweet death desire/ in voidal of/ scar yes or no opened up to the landscape of the meat’s being/ through the excreta of silence the body never resting never silenced/ open wounds of traces forgotten never yet forgotten in the flesh-meat hung drawn quarter of a meat hook’s shining/ lunged out from the it/ savoured savoured/ the pulse flower ever unseen/ the organs phantasms beneath the meat-bone structure/ bled what bled/ till/ not a fucking chance from the outset/ until the foreign of/ fleshed unto the nothing ever of the it/ now/ the blood trickles from the eyes what matter of/ smears of paint arrested colouring of vibrant bile/ of crimson shock of flesh and the bruised flesh/ all the while the scream’s excavate/ the bloody lapse/ flesh without answer/ none without speech…

 

“Untitled #2”

Untitled2

…in an actualization of the blood/ distemper light collect in bask of rotted symphony/ dense accord the traceless unbecoming lapse/ tide of one thousand pelts in the moon’s reflect of eye/ of pupil shared/ trace +1/ ache/ dissipating sound in an echoing room but one/ here or there as if to trace-erase-reclaim/ sudden shock shrill of tint of teeth a-grind bitten by obsolete in any dying hour/ the spit in the eye of it gifted spasm/ lock/ knocks once then thrice collective smear of an outpouring wailing in the dark/ the face illumined else as it dreams of else/ no dice/ in-dream/ stripped skin of an electric cable frenzy/ the hands dead the heart dead/ in an abort of restless unto-follow/ the sky is there the sky is a cataract of azure silence/ no trace for tomorrow/ tumour/ close/ too close to touch it/ the fingers smear also/ the black in the mix of blood echoes of tears spent gilt of the obscene devour/ till shredded once again/ begin from/ step-asking of/ then else to follow in the banality of/ a shock-white-amber nothing/ searing out the/ from out of the/ night’s circus kicking the shit veritable out of from not of then until/ (aches lest it must)/ all breath aligned/ zeroed out/ obliterated/ the shadow vanes the sky as else/ ejaculates nothing but the rent flesh the harboured in-step/ blindly/ mercury dust/ amphetamine salve/ alcoholic abandon/ speeched travail beyond the given trace/ as walls shimmer in the collective smashed in skull of tidal/ all tide of oceanic escaping/ the blood never truly having/ nestling in the bones of the unbecoming sense what of it/ till grace it is said it/ in-step/ discoloured/ silence/ the obsolete remark/ traceless/ scuttle of unspoken tines/ words collapse/ in the out-step/ there or for/ …stun lack/ else what/ in the none of in/ dead-centre prism/ ash upon dead/ forgive-me-nots/ I asks it follows from the out of which therefore/ it cannot/ bask/ black bask colourless pupil sting/ vertebrae of silenced absolute/ the teeth kicked in breaking from fear or favoured sense/ in an echoless verbatim/ (this is the sun)/ till trace of/ locked/ the voice crushed violets/ violence of the incisor emblems/ as if to say of the I what held/ bereft/ sickened unto breath/ sickened unto breathing/ till skulk in hidden corner evading the dark resin/ of night endless/ a menagerie of teeth sunk into blessed restless/ claustrophobe of none/ again once again one naught of trickles down/ step/ non-trace/ step non-trace blind white abort/ fucked frozen/ emptily as if to/ murmuring the dead point from out of the silent point/ axial/ shadow tide of else/ (it is a lie)/ said once/ enough/ blessed rip of blade internal axe of phallic stream/ scream/ dead point/ bitten/ stun lack aborts/ in a toothless aggravate/ hence as if to/ derailed/ shadow upon smashed fingers/ upon self-mutilated flesh/ the given exile of/ fields of rotting grass/ of blackened grasses set to flame in the distant/ the moon shedding light upon/ so falleth the blight ghost limb from out of the carcass of the membrane/ dense tide/ collapse/ caring not for the jot/ extracted/ I bites the nothingness/ in the midst of else/ a piss-stained beggar/ a junked-up emptiness/ settling in to fall…
“Untitled #2”, (2016), is available from Amazon.com & Amazon.co.uk

Two New Sketches…

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…in body lack of weightless veranda speech declaration cold chasm endless breakage bone structure devout it closeth fathom lock until whereof till taste of stun warped limbs gathering at teeth of steel of breath breathing it all out unto whereof collateral nothing of as of before cold stillness where broken of is collision trace & wreckage of cold distemper lights aborted nothing as before in drift of plague language garroting syntax weight crush where procession is nullity of echo-echo dim nothing more to give of reflexive soon to follow of through obscure taste of absurd light & some solace no never of some solace no in-dreamt scar upon scar deliverance through where haven itch is caressed by shiv in membrane skull design it is of trace long longing colours of this or that till obsolete fade unto where rhythm night devoid of all charity it merely salivates/ salivates/ teeth nicotine-stained breathless ovulate of torn flesh what once cold dense disregard never of in whence to feel it not once more ever-present as still in rat of all where peering out through a menagerie of nothing looking for another as if to breathe what will of it one cannot through obsolete nights lacking charity as was uttered & hence now of forgotten climate of distaste as dreamt alone where else what of it severed than burnished extols nothing in reek of final in holocaust of having been in absentee light shards of ice slicing through without cessation here in that what of colours no not of to ever returned collapse that blacken all & sunderance sickly desolation ripping throat from night as body broken vocal broken bodily of cannot no further drenched in blood yet subject to disregard will return evasive no nothing but velvet tears & truncated smiles of dis-ease where shackled light stalks through in an absence of origin as no sounds come forth no nothing of words that have no longer telling of (the) matter what in break bone nothingness all as if to where collapse of rat of being is walls that breathe with every step rapture no nothing of throughout what matter it…as if to…where bask what flesh forgotten offering up to knell final traces of within…seasons damaged…not a nor of in abound of rot of else & give or take forgotten…
…dead speeches from dead ocular of throughout final turn of  in tightening air breathless to absorb it of in no longer of in what nor of throughout a pageant taint steel drawn excommunicable spacious as if to pass through eye of needle unto forage nothing there as all what fallen is scattered seed of exhale burning in pit of nothing ever have in or which collapsed before lest broken nothing to claim ocular roving no longer it what stun in rat of feel of broken tabulets of skins flung to dog’s devour where null vacant eye cannot from denizen of passage present nothing as before once travailed through reek what matter solace of detritus dreamed of laconic shadows breaking from throughout as steam as if to rise filling up subtle edge to sever it all lest to follow unto nowhere on as if there ever were from outset skinning the skinned surface it unto where dredge what cyclic point of no departure let it lie it/ being in or if as was once then forgotten/ broken silhouettes as if to lay it low & to forget when rampage closes its fist & shatters all as dead speech rigor mortis exhalations in sarcophagus of bloomage terse will wind no nothing of for unto not on in never have as if to say that in redempt of silenteeism were to abort yet no cold precision in hyenic laughter of where spasm reach is a broken bone a nothing a mimicry a violent exhalation/ allwhile silently to remain as if it were of obscure throughout blind vision useless foraging eye recollects null & void spits it out vapour trails powdered blood of heavenly speech it in of redeem nothing of in that as all but one in blind of rat in rat of having in whereof listless as as if to echo in-dreaming of some next to follow where tepid waters flow abounding stillness yes to dredge nothing taken from shallow piss watermark yet of in of which echo erased where spurious till flame carouse nocturne headless abortive a sudden as if to fall it is skull & skull alone & meat that it cannot the vision that cannot the breath that cannot as broken body vocal that never could & yet still cannot as drag of yet what will cleaves throughout in silence given to blood flow of it till sought & found bankrupt to be stripped skin & final left to shadow whereof/ bereft of…

“nowhereon”, (forthcoming from VoidFront Press), reviewed by David McLean

nowhereoncoverB-page-001review of nowhereon
Michael McAloran
Void Front Press
2018
Nowhereon explores privatives and negation, absenteeism & being elsewhere, but these negations are mere verbal forms. they do not refer to a void or to any absences, for these are nothing, & the nothing does not really noth, except in us.except wherever the psychological is.all these words relate to what people, mostly idiots, call nihilism, and nihilism only means anything if it is axiological.
the psychological though, qua for-itself is a thin film of nothingness, says Sartre, obviously, & what McAloran points out is that it is a thin film that is fucked up. it does not relate correctly, the self in itself is a fucking optical illusion.
the following is not to illustrate the above point …
…whereby…what which…turns aside of facial lock a burn of following no…skies lapse lack till break of desolate… unsaid of mockery taint a closure of bestow upon…echo echoes of some of which steel ash & breathless overture…collision dense what light foreign exile dreamt of spill of null & void collect of…it dead done as dead done as if to dead to follow…no it says not on…nowhere on to be…nothing of unto…stillness to dredge colours strip(ped) bare denuded black of ice…genuflect of purposeless…ache of desire never having brokestone skin devour lest held in lock of breakage… clamour all then of in where upon as if to exhale through thin air nothing from…skinned of lapse…unspeaking nullity of having ever…
we kneel before it, the pointless, the purposeless, the blind watchmaker, the blind & retarded watchmaker, the ineffable porpoise, the terrapin heaven, for we do not know what we are doing & do not care why. the disease is the literal dis-ease, that which we do not want, whatever we do not accept, the voids between whatever has been claimed by ego & we are too lazy to take on the task of creating the unconscious that it is impossible to claim. behind the whole text here, there is laughter, it is the crowned & conquering child, Horus, who lives an idiot in every psychosis (& art needs these regular, especially young boys & every other variety of scumbag).
the tongue is stone in speech, it clears her throat it is silent & if it were not it is silent still in a foreign tongue inevitable & we do not understand our selves in particular. thus, in fine, here is the world, full of cunts & nothingness. it is what i have always said, very repetitively, & it is what McAloran also tells us.
some passages are so cool & truthful:
…try try trace of for somewhere on where shadowy as if to echo where to be possess of some gradient on frozen allwhile in bitter laughter rocks back & forth in shat a bankrupt cripple to one own damage in & of luxuriant on it says no matter…
i think that the reader should purchase a copy of this book, & see how words can be forced to suffer, can be tortured until they tell the truth, until they echo the inarticulate cry of which Wittgenstein speaks, until they are raw flesh, meat open, bacon & a pillar of salt.

A review by David McLean of “stance light end” (Black Editions Press)

stance light end

Michael Mc Aloran
stance light end
Black Editions Press
2018
Mc Aloran’s newest book resumes the breakage of syntax and rupture of language that characterizes his earlier works. The repetitive what obviously situates the book within ontology, in that it discusses the ontic (there is no meaning behind any of it). beings, as opposed to Being, are scumbags. Mc Aloran’s text attempts to ascribe them some axiological status, or pretends to, to these scumbag beings, then tells them to fuck off.  Weather, blood on the walls, glass, fingers, sunlight – all a bunch of cunts. Whereof, one assumes, the tendency to abstraction on his paintings.
wound till gift of speech reclaimed dead hence nothing of
till matters none…stance light end…
 The gift is the Es gibt. The giving of Being in beings through logos, better of dead. No posturing any more. The taint in the eye is the tain of the mirror, the black sun, that which is impenetrable and refuses transparency. We do not see what is, humans – again I use “we” out of sheer politeness – and this matters little or nothing, none matters, no one, it matters not an iota – already this here is absence & the final fucking outrage of speech and words is that the cocksuckers can survive our deaths and seem to express our selves that then shall be lacking. The point of the exercise is to rape syntax repeatedly until the meaning will be seen as through an ass darkly.
 …what to founder of where null abounds it not…what
whisper unto…what fleshed as it escapes…what cannot
frenzy lack…
Words do not serve, they become a vain statement. What is left is the vain gesture, the Potlatch frenzy that is writing without being fucking retarded. Mc Aloran is one of the few to do so.
You can get it here

 

The foreword by Chyna Blac to “stance light end”…

stance light end
…this text, ‘booque’, textLab®, intent of Michael Mc Aloran’s newest (or new or it eschews categorizations, representationisms) uses language as a vessel yet seemingly foremost to mirror the pastness, postness, of all. and this mere mirroring, which isn’t also so random as to render unintelligibility, has a lot of, yes, being there or even, when the case, being dead and never the divisiveness between the two was lesser. content, meaning, intent, semantics, linguistic characteristics, repetitionism, omittances, meant misspellings or uneven metaphor or whatever the fuck needed to distress a traditionalist poetology, it is all stuck upon this coral reef of lexicologic forms or deformations with partially contours. there are registers in the text and then there is a shift, radical or peripheric, which brusque cantilevers the whole reading and herewith, the mood of the readeuse or and readeur. radar. so the text is a vessel with which Mc Aloran (and reader) offer conspirationalist possibility to fuck up what is around us and suffuses us in viral critical loads the titers of which covariate with the density of language of his ‘book’, his text, his expenditure. medical metaphors do well with characterising Mc Aloran’s texts (and the art of other ‘modernists,postmodernists, postironic complexisists, postJazz imaginistes, postArt performers’) etcetera. these medico-esthetic, antiEsthetic-performist, societal-[trans]specietal, evenemential-social medial transit hubs seem as aptly represented in their leukemic-fractal-temporal-metabolisticmetaphysical-unoptimistical (Mists) yet mystical features all coming towards us as biomass beleaguered by such viral-technological-informational overload, critical mass, redundancy, entropy. Michael Mc Aloran seems to address this all however not in any scientific casus but in sheer masterful poetry, much in and abandoning radically Beckett, Malcolm Lowry, Thomas Hardy, Sylvia Plath and wider seen, Gertrude Stein, Margarite Duras, Alain Robbe-Grillet.
fingers upon cold glass…gazes in or out am…breath upon cold glass…of… traceless…a trace of this…what this am…no echo no not of…forgotten…yet echo of…as was before…so it was before having unremembered…yet no not of there…given …taking from or else of…of the all not a…white sound of…of static abounding yes or no…”
‘fingers upon cold glass’, the mindset is within the iciness of societal abandon whereas there is always the (futile but palpable) tactile interrelatedness. there is corporeality, carcass theory as gathered at the ‘BodyFarm’, and inmidst of this viscerality there hovers ‘unremembering’ as at least an instance to be part of what whirls around us. the repetitive denials of denials we already found in Adorno, the repetitiousness in Stein but here there is added modernity and fashionista/trashionista stream of motorizing skills in the writing, the reading optional.
Chyna Blac

 

You can get it here