1,124 Readings

In Loco Parentis


Often, without any consent and from
     out of its arcane architecture
          a mouth by turns inverted
               from source-code to toolkit,

first secreted then secreted
     as a sumptuous semper fidelis,
          in pursuit of rational overreaching
               that rations libertates as Rights of Man.

May we no longer with license be
     but with lice aplenty mete
          yr bacchantic hysterics
                    in apollonian Babyface.

Can we not appeal to
     the wild-side of his
          daughter to a wolf whistler’s
                    will to womanpower?

A little earthen puissance, maybe,
     camped out in flagrante delicto.
A secret garden inferred from an untyped
     token, tesseract cast
          as tessera tied to a training pot
               to end up a test market for Teletubbies.

You are our happy Eden, our ending,
      the crowd’s roar at Flughafen Nürnberg
          registered by the primitive recording
               equipment of the day as Eine Kleine
          Kristallnachtmusik, tiny terror
               of being there without having to go.


The accretion disk of history,
     composing its perspective effect,
          turns round a too-soon
               interregnum only
          to mistake that thought for
               the transpiration of Utopia,
          not to recognize that each thought
               is a door that leads one only away.

What remains: period piece, daily life.
     How its content contains unrestrained
          as shifted fetishes persist in reversing
               the flow of intention outward
from things without measure or making.

     City of detours, derivations,
          where she has not an obstructed
               memorial of dispensation.

The prize of us, object that consents
     to production. What you wore, management
     solution. The consent that objects
          to usufruct. Still mute so to speak.

Still mute, which is not to say patient,
     waiting to the extent that we could define
          ourselves in loco parentis, in absence
               of a body against opportunity.

She does not fascinate because
     she affords us a view as an obscenity
          but transfixes in the sense of severance
               as in of an estate or limb.

Posted 09/04/09
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