Olchar Lindsann


unbroken as g
lobes of spicable
de toxicated

fresh crinoline of
graphite caravel s
lashing wavelines

w oven leaves s
tared bleanched s
tashed in holden

rizon leaking, yet
retched ccaneers
gibbet-kissed ,lapis

“ beneath a fairy eye, assault of enchantment”
            Philothée O'Neddy, Dandyisme
“ Deities of Earth blink from their numer”
            Imogene Engine, Ada's Dreams:
   Distant Future Visions

grasped in veiny tendrilclaws
            soft foldsqueeze
s,lightest s,trembling coruscule
            s,lized wherein cut and
            lisked,” he says – yet wings
s,pasmed from eht fabric, s,quirmed
            squashly et numinous
                        hence the forklift
hence its sacrosanct regr, et
                        wh'ere its gone all
   gone all
caterpillar mausoleum gone
            all coursing comme une

                         Lastish Bow
          “een bow-wow! I’ve been bow-wow-wow!
          Very sick.’ Ah, y”
                          – Gogol, Diary of a Madman.

                                      “tainment dirty
                    octopus dilated st”
                          – Leftwich, Petroleum.

                    w w ow bunny slaughter penmanship
clingy pathogen I sing you into reamage, d
                              g seeping thru go-leman ,really
          plated en lannet gassing plenty,      sludge.
holy pus-tine whippoor’will my colon thug duvet
                    wow-sicky-sicky-wow wreath ray-gun
                    blit blat thorn thermometer (tis
                    ne what’t sayd the first time pas –sad
                              the digibytes the poem’s firstmost
                                        version consumeth but here
                                                  ne’er fear
          like perfected Seth springeth forth so
          fuck you archons of the cloudfroth) Wendy’s burg
          f,lip-f,lap coriander dander forge, crimp
tliki snap-beak bag jelly sucker slaughter pelican pendulum
                    the azure punchline in the lotus position
in my eye mote regular stirrup
fr’audulent as the                wreaking pander syrup
letter x                      sticky lantern blearing wow-wow- horn
pad knack con, fusion tawdry      an article the
f, easter blend c, so sn, ô pus     con, junct inky ion
geurdon hiccup plunderpus          horseradish âme
lawnmoawner contagricultimaterial ken-doll grievillagricola
          didn’t think il should read Philo thée O’  Neddy
       norat ô bandit trepan casket                    o’  Alexandria
     fleetly you warn us in garnet                    ,o   gorgon
lancet like fled wh’ere the flood                     o’  self slime
                             in the final of                     ,ô’ w ôw-ôw-ôw-ôw  ? ,
                                     very sick.

“nce with the tip that bleeds, though it has neither blood nor vein”
                        – Thomas Malory, Le Morte d’Arthur

                                    Scented bloom quest”
             – Sheila E. Murphy

blessèd hawberk radius
thigh-wound broad as butterflies
ye ween ye well the foghorn-lily
     canticle-like, flaccid, sifts.

Ô woe betide the faintish placards
peeling wheat from buckler splinters
stamens lanced forth plight procession
     meercat whispers, naked, dust.

Passing anxious hildegard
contumely ensteeped in nectar
mash-up palfrey petal errant
     nettles bristle, kettle, drift.

Fleet the keg of cat anon
ere sweet a honeysuckle floats
for aye the latent brachet kindles
     harsh unhorsed, unseeded, brast.

                  Portents and Tribulations of Albion
                           en Thrall to the Towr

     [from Arthur Dies, Chronicle I, Volume 4 (in progress)]

                        “Our wars are wars of life, & wounds of love
                         With intellectual spears & long winged arrows of thought”
                                                              – Blake, Jerusalem, Plate 38.
                                              firstly’t was a scar
                                                  -let pinprick bead
                                               -ing bloodsome
                                                 on the skyskin
                                                 – crimson star
                                                   of dole, said
                                                   many; others
                                                  said: the seive
                                                of sky was rifting –
                                                lô said the brythic
                                               bards be: hold here
                                                               c’est grew
                                                  et mere a comet
                                             seemed said certains,
                                              each night en-arced
                                          athwart the moon its red
                                       re, fleckted in the moons red
                                   disk it nightly scraped acrost stars
                                 & on cerstain nights bled rains of red
                                et weekly waxed :  unto a carmine eye-
                                ball lum’nous looming rolleth blinkless
                               cloud-lidded squeezed in eht fleshy sky
                             et twas the Towrs (said the Towrs pundits
                          et spies) the Towr’s proud paternal eye ,poised
                              to pounce upon Armorica’s sedition – Yet
                     others’aid here scanned the eye of Arthur imminent:
                    still grew the sky-rupt
                                                            giant iris-orb rising in burgeons
                       til the dayly sun half-veiled t’heavens, endusked eht
                   southron shores ,eht fortressfringe of harbourd Sæx,
                  and still it waxeth, in ferment of crops in, deathdark pupils
                  gloaming planet in hover of star’vage in th’ætherial sphere
                 wh’ere its long spineful lashes blinkwhistle like spiritscythes
              y, et still it cancers nigh:
                                                          until nor more an eye in grim mad shock
           all eyes descry the sigil dread-descended: a writhing wyrm ,fière ,red
             dragon rampant scaleshod broodant fiery & deddreamen ,fierce ,red
           as lifeblood love joy sunflame vibrant saturant seal of the pen-Dragons
             matte depth of wyrm-wound from th’azure peeled
                          :bloodpaint splayed upon Albions glassdome daily
                           bloodabyss staticly rears Albions velvetveile night:
High-shadowing in cloud-swaths the doomdragons scaly tail swiped above
        the foamcoasts et felds from fallen & enchaind cantiac Durovernum to London;
Its bulky trunk blockèd the lumen of Lewes to Poole with heavinous breaths;
               skin-thin eveigled its wingspread like eyelids closed oer eht phalanx-towns
                                           Isca et Corinium Oxford Bristol pegged to dusting s’oildirt;
Knotted aloft above the neiredic pools of Bath its shoulders;
One claw it curved to two Dart-shots mere
             above the tortop at thoughtfertile Totnes;
One claw cupped close to Ynys Wydryn tor
             reflected in the glass of Avalon; but
Above the City of Legions stretched its terminal spinal scales
   et over the Towr (whence but few suncycles hence
                                  a likewise dragond hatchd
                                  et issued from crystalwomb
                                  hidden-pitted neath the pillarspike –) snapped its ravening jaws
                                       teeth like slashing mountainpeaks in thundrous snap
                                                    above the mountainpeaks of Albion
                                                    enamel t,raced with f’lashing f,ire.

                                                                                [ . . . ]

Olchar Lindsann is a co-founder of the Post-NeoAbsurdist network, has published around forty books of poetry, translations, critical theory, and avant-garde history, and has performed sound poetry across the US and UK. He is the editor of mOnocle-Lash Anti-Press and the journals in-Appropriated Press (contemporary avant-garde poetry, theory, and performance documentation) and Rêvenance: Hauntings from Underground Histories (translations and studies in 19th Century progressive counterculture). He recently published the third volume of the ongoing avant-epic poem Arthur Dies on Luna Bisonte Prods. He lives in Roanoke, Virginia where he teaches at a progressive alternative high school and co-organizes the AfterMAF Festival, and maintains several archives dedicated to various aspects of the contemporary and historical avant-garde.
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