Louis Armand 


DI/ODE LVIII

emotions, too, are science fiction.
a word at random becomes the first axiom.
life from electrically-charged stone —
wherever a membrane
traversed by heat becomes
an engine of increase.
there was no special case, no
divine logos. world
rhymes w/ synthesis as it rhymes w/
gravity & air.
                              if there's pleasure
in birds dancing upon the dusk,
or the resonant frequency
of ice cracking in a glass 
at the end of a hot day, 
does this prove it any more or less
a mechanics of sentimentality?
                                             the radiant sun
                                             needn't know
                                             any of this
                                             to make it happen.



DI/ODE LIX

a dream is a worm in the brain
evolving us. there are archetypes, protons & electrons,
the shape of a primal discharge
across synapse-space, mind-eye nebula.
each construes its own myth,
heliotropes of an idea
far from light.
is it in the nature of things to desire their opposite?
& their opposite's opposite?
20,000 leagues in a watertight alibi
& all that's on offer is air —
their plans for world domination
wld have to be set aside
                                                            while learning to breathe.



DI/ODE LX

suffocating a little every day
to be weaned from oxygen-dependency —
how deep is a mind prepared to dive?
a planet is always a kind of
controversy, to exist at all —
spiralling dolomites in the sky,
providing the requisite
science-fictional atmosphere.
another live-feed extinction event,
another deathless advertisement.
to sink so low in an iron lung, the seas
boil away, the nautilus crab
learns to fly, everyone's a star tonight.
still the oscilloscope bleats,
a tiny future-voice speaks
in yr ear — it's alright, dear,
we've watered the dead geraniums
& replanted the headstone.
but they do not say, who'll pay the rent.



DI/ODE LXI

this journey to the end is nigh on enigmatic,  
imbued w/ suspect motive: another War-
hole [sic] disaster routine exacerbated
in pandemic bordercontrol. (sez algorithm
enthralled by sublime, like windowdressing.)
bomb vistas the new master narrative?
over longer time-periods, clock hands
become wearable zero-sum prostheses where
not all statistical facts add-up. widow-
dressing a tentacle grafted onto cortex
to autonomise rapport w/ likeminded —
when even the most risible must one day
come to pass. “survivance” by self-parody
because old massextinction not yet done
though next one already in process.
observe how, below a windswept emoji,
the original post-ape thumbs The Tempest on
doomscroll mode. we the contingent manifold!
being a porous metal, meaning its diagnosis:
but what “true crime” confesses it is?
livestreamed, the past wld really give them
something to think about, when history
breezes back through the door expecting
a three-course meal to be laid out for it.



DI/ODE LXII

for this, a flow of movement, perfectly illustrated,
was required — summertime & the
poetical consciousness found itself on holiday.
party hats & war gripped by neuroses
like a redactionary humorist.
cha cha cha, Colonel Blimp was a pimp.
how many crossings-out devoted to
synchronisation w/ a scratched
record? as time wears on the plot dissolves
into the needletracks of old habits
still ready to die for a cause.
sometimes their fantasies leap right out
of their brains, demonstrating where true power
resides.

Louis Armand’s poetry collections include Infantilisms (forthcoming 2023), Monument (with John Kinsella, 2020), East Broadway Rundown (2015), Indirect Objects (2014), Letters from Ausland (2011) & Strange Attractors (2003). He is the author of the libretto A House for Hanne Darboven (2021) & novels including The Garden (2020), The Combinations (2016), Abacus (2015) & Clair Obscur (2011). His critical works include Videology (2015), The Organ-Grinder’s Monkey: Culture after the Avantgarde (2013) & Incendiary Devices (1993). He is formerly an editor of the international arts journal VLAK & co-directs the Prague Microfestival. www.louis-armand.com

 
 

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