Jukka-Pekka Kervinen

                                             & Maria Damon

collaboration riffs

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                                             Undulant, unspent stasis
                                             Mallarmé, mal de mer (ce grand poème)
                                             a string of connection, yarned-through
                                             a rhizome of textine entanglements,
                                             you bless me with your wounded serpents' bites.

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                                             Taint this or taint that, lungs corrupted, all wrong and mangled
                                             corneas murdered and enshitted with thick-webbed syllabaries
                                             unpretty, bought and soul'd, blighted and blasted, attention please!
                                             a fabric of voovray entreaties and exits, peatmoss corpses,
                                             muscled atrophy, blingbling on the telephone, bovine bleats
                                             in the nailbitten angel's Ophelia blossoms, i mean of course the toxic oleander
                                             in the dashboard vase
                                             in the rich lady's luxury car.

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                                             Tannhauser-Busch at your service, sirrah, with
                                             George and W not far behind... paper'd with dread,
                                             sprayed with statutes of their own devise, obstacles and
                                             oats, toasts and barnacles, alephs and gammas gone
                                             wild, the tongue-stomping they all deserve, while the
                                             boys of the NYPD choir sucked lollipops in the hay, and
                                             the bells were ringing out in deviant splendor.

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                                             Sketches and stretches, I'm a
                                             behemoth feeding on your beebag,
                                             a thug thirsting at your blood-bucket,
                                             a rhizome worming through the humus,
                                             a malevolent tomcat under the linoleum
                                             pulsating at the Pindar of Wakefield in a
                                             sonic hellscape, edging on out on an obliteration orgy.

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                                             Use-value patriotism in a tutu, amped-up tamped-down
                                             begging for Nirvana in a lower register. Ultima Vox the
                                             witch of gutter art scissors a pensive vision across the littered shore
                                             while the Writmeister of wistful September enacts
                                             a slimy sepsis on our dental inventory.

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                                             Dragons can't see us when we go in reverse,
                                             Tagged and depleted in rollicking verse
                                             A chiasmus assumes abysmal applications
                                             Beyond what we waded into, a regular contagious-disease central.
                                             Many a Litvak deplores our plinthy groupthink,
                                             but plasticity embellishes our edenic tryst with the Evian spring fountain
                                             and ditzes populate our ungepachet solipsism, even as we
                                             mourn in cheesy solitude.

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                                             Apollo can see you from the back of his head, and you need not
                                             apply for further bling. Dad is fumbling where he shouldn't be,
                                             glad you've got your IUD, semper fi is the dolten motto,
                                             while moonfucks sing their anthems of unknowing
                                             the clouds are sappy with swollen bombast, blathering
                                             a foggy cap-in-hand moxie wreath of laurel bones.

Maria Damon teaches at the Pratt Institute of Art. She is the author of several books of poetry scholarship and co-author of several books of poetry. She currently focuses on visual textile poems.

Jukka-Pekka Kervinen is a Finnish composer, writer and visual artist focused mostly on algorithmic-procedural methods of generating artificial art (AA) forms.
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