She was a sensitive, dancing beneath a fastax tower

Freedom you all most like to bellow but I have unlearned belief in ‘great events’ whenever there is much bellowing and smoke about them. And believe me, friend Infernal-racket! The greatest events they are not our noisiest but our stillest hours. The world revolves, not around the inventors of new noises, but around the inventors of new values, it revolves inaudibly. 

Vapor, hanging out the radio, 

iz-that…Before he culd say it, Ramophone flashed, bundling the two, down the hull of the Fordillius Mustang, outswerving, caressing, kissing the sidelets, sunlight breaking out in pacific jarlets on a single bigtoe on a wheel, in a cacophonous spin…high below the L.A. freeways, the ocean liner, Vorton Hound, dumped debris on a nudist garrison, dahling vwaaait vwait, the champagn-gargling, as one Senor Inundatio sank beneath the waves… 

Night fell hard on the sycamore-paved trail up to the beat shack of Ramophone’s place, a reprieve from the night. A ‘for sensitives’ sign lolled loose as rain broke out inachorus wiv the breakers, salt in the air laced lightning…sprinting across, ocean sur-wave rippling in, for a lens, Chiarascura wearing nothing but a fishnet lollyvest…eyes, the orbs of a cayman, out in the lagoon of lawn on a fullmoon cut by cumulus and coriolis.

Rain, fading, light, trellising, Tenn pops a lithium pill, open on the book detailing the whereabouts of Inersia: duòlì: inertia; momentum; guánliáng，惯量N: inertia; guānding 惯性n.; inertia
guánxing dinglů 惯性定律, the law of inertia; guanxing, douse to restore consciousness; guanxin minmo, to be concerned about the afflictions of the people; guanxin shu, the art of mind reading… 

Mind reading? ESP, chuánjiáo 船脚[-腳]; water, shipping freight; chuánjiáo* 传數[傳-], do mis­sionary work; proselytize; transmit directives/ instructions… 

She was a beautiful, oriental, woman… he met her in Chinatown…Hawaii 

The Chinese connection…. an address in Guangdong….   Yazuki… triads…. 

On the Vorton, Claymore Snort cut the most lonely figure in the Pacific… 

Telemetries, frequencies, one great bandwidth registering the flights of geese flocken, a low-drift by the ocean, zlooping out of radar Slamdinska LeMay plummetted, tapping deadfuel gauge… with Jupiternear poking out… the Observatory out over Santa Fe, dark sentinel… in the docks, Chinamen, Japs, Africans, Indians, Eurasians, Russians (disguised), moving thru… 

The radio was playing [       ], pulling out on the freeway, sunlight breaking out in pacific jarlets, inteferences growing gliding thruout of the [     ] tunnel out, 

42,000 men, 242 ships, 156 airplanes, 4 television transmitters, 750 cameras, 5000 pressure gages, 25,000 radiation recorders, 204 goats, 200 pigs, 5000 rats and why transport Numbers 4 and 5 of the atomic bomb family thousands of miles across land and sea for two brief moments of majestic destruction 

Ramophone and Explorer IV

Ramophone pushed out past Caymanorb Lake in the lowlit haze, strikingup a match, fueldrums lay out across the beach… the swell boomed deep cavities into the Californian edges… in the shack, an inkwet manifesto lolled beside a limp Chiarascura rendezvousin with Rama, her eyelids shivering instep with a fan, electrical, dizzying, a steady Indonesian fan…

He litup a fueldrum, several hundred yards from the cliffedge, the silhouette of the shack silent, the wind rippling, turned the firelight ona sideways, blowing motion, deepswell….stars…broke out ina chorus ov low radiostatic… ramophonen stared out blinking, slumped ona sandcastle… the smoke rising nostrilz…noplaceelse…Elsa…nice name for the night-codings… the brittle lost hippiefreak beatentrak… shacklivin… a squalid… planet… whirring about its axis, in sunbroken shadows… cayman orbs, Caymanorbs out deep… blinking… he blinks.. wy wuld u look at thaah- a message ov… 

Fueldrum humming, pacific surf, calming, for miles, an empty canvas… water ripples into hiz feet…closing an opening… a modulation wave… 

A California Zephyr train running thru a dream midskull…Mescalined neon Monterey in the late beatnik hours… chasing into the cries of the Canyon… a crashing high wave sortof Sonora, Ramaphone sits in the quiescence of owls, the stove glowing, a solitary lamp casting huge shadows out of the redwoods… caves… the phosphorescent glintings of shoreledge, the steady pound of waves… fog falling… when he gathers leaves… roasting coffee and potatoes… starless, damp cold… when the fog lifts… gale winds pull thru… one night there is a thunderstorm… booms off the edges of the canyon… light strafes and glints and he’s buried, buried under, brandishing fogdark on his retinas… and screammin inhis sleep dream waking nightlight bitten… wave pounding… pounding and tearing off hunks of the continent… on the edge… on the edge of this world… crowsh… the embers… glowing less and less… a crack… a break in the storm… pulling out now… into the interior… the thick smell of forest fires…. Is that DDT?… 

Night raids… under dark clouds… searching for something… a paranoid delusion….a memory eked outona spinning whirring lighttract… stroboscopic Mescaline… a room… a white room.. leading corridors… outside the faint murmurings… childrens laughter… a swing… nightfall… riding a greyhound… 

Ramphone and Chiarascura and the Jet Stream Kids… wire up in the night… under hammerings of cheap liquor, moonshined vials of spirit.. listen in on frequencies…dirty talk…in Frisno… police radio… frequencies no one should be listening in on… beatnik tendencies developing into a paranoid web… spilling out into the ocean… drifting debris… floating out onto Hawaii…  they take automobiles out late… zlooping the steep San Fran streeets… burying straight across the freeways into LA…Nevada…the desert air holds a momentary liberation from the oppresive fog-sated canyon…. She looks over at him… he looks over…sez…. phwooosh… a read streak in the sky… flighting coordinates… out into the lakes… carved holocenal… Mojave… green light intersection… she watches a black hobo…frequenter… getting ina scuffle… rows of tents… under a cold bright moon… 

… 

Outside Berkeley…Ramophone turns to her one night, with the radio turned down and the smoke filling the car, there’s things happening in there Chiarascura… touching her hair, spinning a lock in it… she has her head bent at a lean on his shoulder edge… her eyes bulging… Common gee Chiara Cayamana ur dragiin me in.. Im spinning u… croccroolll… shepokes his paranoid midriff.. the smokenear dragging themboth down in thru the bonnett… into the back… there are things happening in there… her half-mexican grants them passage south…in the longdays down Santa Cruz… into Guadalajara… past the streaking yellow Sonoran… nights… lit up by stars and the smells of barbeques… meat…juicy… reprieve from the fog… 

bonfires… light the beaches… Oaxacan drinking bouts… fall into cold arms cradly together…the Bohemian Chinese painter… Lu Wen… takes them across Chinatown… into a restaurant… father’s friend… dark lamps… room leading onto rooms… with attractive Shanghainese waitreessses… poems carved in Chinese script on the woodcuttings… Ram…the pekingese duck… all orders of sides… the redwoods… bleeding light storm… pilots drifting on in all over the airwaves… 

Lu has a radio set up on the roof.. of his father’s friends place…. Stacks of papers… smoke… a photograph… from a dirty magazine… they drift in and out of radio traffic… listening out on in… 

In the wind storms… pulling out thru the canyon… the jets flying low onto the coast… sonic boom… muffled… drawn off to haunt someone else’s nights… in the fog… the noise is condensed… it’s like waking up in Korea… dynamite… screaming Koreans… chasing u down on sum god forsaken artillery unit….  

Chiara loved Rama… the late night drives… the bonfires… hikes, fucking under dim lamplight… then sand… the whoosh of surf… the complications in Oaxaca… Mexico City… minimised,.. in his grasp,.. she met him at a bar… san fran steep… he was with Lu Wen… he had long dark hair and a thousand yard stare…she wore a floral dress… short above the knee for a Mexican…father… her mother and father met… working on a field in the years after the war… not the World… but the drug wars.. driving them north… 

The chassis shuddering over bumps and swerves… the Bay Shoreline… bleeding out in blues and pinks and pastels into sonoric… sonorous sunset burst… her heart iz bursting in the radio…. Blue dusks… Frisco glittering rhyms and blues…. smokes… screaming hooting…laughing… lost in the flight… up and down… mushrooms… stirrred into some potion… they drink and dream together… of flying out into the stars… that one…traacing a line across his chestnooo, that one… she pointin holdin his midriff… he smellin her hair… in the sand… the steady beat of the waves… blue dusks… falling into purples… the sun breaks open… into a hot sweaty naked scene… bodies strewn out hanging lolling outov hammocks… Ramophone and Chiara… Sonora.. and the other hippy crews…all up and down the Californian coastline… 

When Rama got sick… after.. some trial at Berkeley… she thought nothing ovit… in his car… beside the bridge…its good money… foruz Chiara… wecan go off grid… live in the canyon all year… wiv the fog..we’ll go to Oaxaca.. in her lilt… on the bridge… cars passed… lights blinking in the dusk… a liner was drifting upriver…. The steady noise of traffic… with the windows down… a cigarette in one hand black glasses… whatdo they even want you to do in there? I dontknow Chiara.. it’ll just be a few days… 

___

night… instrument panel…nosedown, spiralling…sendzhim back, back to the war…aphrodisiacal blues greens… headblat… engine roaringthru thickening, cleaving clouds… breaks out into pure sunlight… sezhey a small fire down the beach… droolingonhis SETP badge… 

___

tinkering inside his newest hulking particle accelerator… asif he was in a lift back in Greece… Nazis asking for his name… tell them… Im not here… running out past the brush…. Into a curtain stray….  The toolbox flighting down an empty liftshaft…he is out… Herr… Greköring…

Two rooms up… overlooking the Berkeley campus… quads… brimming with students wearing too short… dresses… hippies carrying makeshift placards… shouting something… civil… radiation luminosity… Radiation luminosity… outward radiation… inward gravitational pull… feeding… Eddington limit… burping starz… quasars fed on so much that the radiation Getz trapped by a blanket of infalling gas and carries it in wivit… thenwhen itz spent… pressure support drops… the core collapses in without allowing it to flow outwards and resist gravity… 

Great flowing riverz of light… in a fraction of a second… a bleed in the fabric… sterilizing worlds… habitable planets… a region of space from which nothing can escape u hear me… 

The physisist takes two steps bakoff Lu’s roof and plummets… or at leas thazwut Ramophone candream heslost out holin, holy smokin-Chiara whatare they… u like em…she’z slinkedout of her Dress… inthe firecircle ov neonlights… swooning heads… the nude… dazzling nipples litup like… ur nipples… they’re… a portal… yesss… the lilt on the sss… ramm..fallsthru in and crushhed.. sees the stars dazzle…burstin..out overtops,… a slowbeat… drivin up… the LA… 1115 Beaumont road… someone is controlling us post-war… symmetry… we are building a optic.. cable… magnetron… cyclotron… hiz earz are listening in on a rainforest pitter patter… rain… of geniuses down in the Berkeley campus…whereami.. ur here Ram… shards of broken… technolight… kissing… slamming… in against hizface.. the nippples are islands… Guam… Saipan… Okinawa… dropped ordnance with dusk falling.. inaudibly… a dream… heat raising… the napalm …razing over Philippino fields…waving schoolchildren… sonder effects.. in their eyez…. Electromagnetic phenomena… streaking back enginez coughing out… storm phenomena lightning… crystallised air… driving out back past fractalistic villas.. dotting the Palo Alto.. heights…. Rama and Chiara… dressed again… startup the radio…. Turn it up… a carlightsblarin like nipples…crasheson past… hooting… dopplerfading… the fadedout sun hides..chiara… ocean…darkhum… pacificalic… fog… whitecrushing…as the dream grows, others fade… the lights… that burn On an incandescent roadside… cinemas… theatres… fairgrounds… the blinking… sparkling… sets of westerns…. montages… of bright Fitzgeraldz… in the passenger seat… she swoons… starts unrobingagain… rama… cna see the road…bareli… flying hooting the horn… raising to a feverlusten… trees roaringpast…

___

She wakesfirst at highnoon… coffee…sun glintin thru the canyon… only a shirt on… high curves of the canyon in sum sonoric… himhum… boilit wiv a… nightfall…  clouds…rain… stormlight… 

The canyon moved… swayed with the arcing lightning…as Chiara boiled some soup…she painted out a placard… DDT aerial spraying out in [County…] joining a protest in San FFran… 

let\z go to Hawaii hunny… ittznhot we can tan… and swim… u can surf and smoke dope… 

Third force…Lu’s rooftop… 

the hidden room in Lu’s restaurant…a dark room… photographic plates… dipped in chemicals…. Strange lettterings.. chinese… warvets…okinawa… a necklace… island… pacific… he couldnt make out much but that his mouth made sum twisting motion… the noodlez passing around… candlelight… the smell of asiatic… bustled lanterns… released upan out ocer the roof… year of the rabbit… year of playboy bunny… for me… for Fu….a journal… into Hong Kong… receipts… he flies out fo San Fran… onto Hong Kong… the city is bustling…sweptin people from all over… wave upon wave… up in the slums over [. ] a fire breaks out one night… destroying the city…. They walk the bridge over into Red China…. A glinting… mass… 

____

The cool quiteño libran night breathing in… clouds passing thru a ghostlitten office block… modernist edges… a sweep of lights… low risen… dark street…the passing cars on the edge of dreams… doghs barking in some distance… the sound of the party buses scything through… afrobeaten swell… the coastline… a dry, blinding sunlight, the beaches full with families swept in from Guayaquil… Salinas… passing the houses low… single floored… bolon… for morning… the bark of dogs, the passing of a car, the dust… drawn in… from dryness…equatorial dryness… then we flew out east into the orient… the boat… drifting in a wakeful dream, the slow hum of the boat engine… cupped the mind in trees, the call of.a bird beating out over the canopy line… the caw of monkeys moving in the treelines… the eyes of caymans… still… watching… on the dock, thrwoing a rock toward one…. The zigzagging motion across the water… the depth… diving into a pure black layer of earth… the color of blood coagulated…. 

The loss of radio reception climbing up through the mountains….     They installed the antennaes…up above Quito… at a military facility….  So with Peru… a deep space observatory linked through stations high above sea level…   

Ramophone caught up with Chiara… naturally.. as she layout on the lolling hammock… the sun beginning to droop down past the pacific slat of blue… aquiline blue… the redness of the tree resin… in his hand… ona canvas…. In the distance… the movement of traffic out across the sunshine coast….  The curvature of the earth… the dance of stars… the last beaten way out of this…this… Chiarac wiped his brow… he was geverishhot warm sunken in his hammock she leapt up onto him said oh Rama lets go somewhwere out away from this dam place… 

Shooting stars… darknow a nightsky lit wiv the phosphorescent newmoon.. a lunar voyeur… looping downon them trysthammaka two… in a swa of pots… dried tealostgout in a canyonblue bathymotic feeling.. 

America was risingout up over them… the Panam flights looping out tio Hawaii… military flights out over Guam…. The pacific war…. Colors won… men flew in and out of the westcoazt…. Facilities hummed in dusk… the clankering of skunkworks…. Electrical effects… resonances out in the desert…. Flights… of vehicles that couldnt dam near fly as good as u or I….    Lu Shen washoutup shoutuing out over the embers of the fire….radio static breaking out into noisecall… a silent brotherhood passing out somewhere in deep Borneo…. The radarmen… tappingout…. The flightinputs…. The blue deep blue… desert…. Blossoming out beneath his bed… his plane… his pit… the pit of their souls… wiv an engine sound… the sound of life… cutting… fuel… gauge read… distance…. Relay…. The uss fleet in its way swooning to a hidden radiosong…. Sung by mermaids… 

That was the sound of the darkness that came… in the war… stealing glances out at the sky falling into a mirror immage of itself a thick smoke of sky broken by the fall… the fall of planes.. the fall of pilots… the fall of life… the fall of boys… the infallen…the unnamed souls drownedout in zekefuselage… the scene held in a freezeframe…. The motion of light… the arc of litten… 

Chiara and Rama fell apart…. She fell out overboard ended up washed up working bars in Guadlajara.. in Sonora… where the desert enveloped… and consumed… the narcotics bledout in sunbroken sleep in blinds mottled and torn by nuns reciting the rosary in deep Mexican Spanish… then she took a bus down into central america… tended farms… picked fruit… rode out into Panamanian night… the canal… passing liners…. 

Canyon litup

The most tragic result of the testing of LSD by the CIA was the death of Dr. Frank Olson, a civilian employee of the Army, who died on November 27, 1953. His death followed his participation in a CIA experiment with LSD. As part of this experiment, Olson unwittingly received approximately 70 micrograms of LSD in a glass of Cointreau he drank on November 19, 1953. The drug had been placed in the bottle by a CIA officer, Dr. Robert Lashbrook, as part of an experiment he and Dr. Sidney Gottlieb performed at a meeting of Army and CIA scientists.

Shortly after this experiment, Olson exhibited symptoms of para- noia and schizophrenia.

Edwards, mojave

I ain no robot… 

Desert sun anglin, baking, cooking the dry lakebed mojavus… the machinists tents are flayed out in an array…his eyes adjust… blinded momentarilus coming there out from the sun into… 

feedback… control… inertial navigation systems… accelerometers… spinning gyroscopes… radar… simulators… simulators in simulators… simulators in simulators on a simultator… I am poseetively stimulated gentomen… whats this… touching prodding… nervously backing along with him… polite to a five star generall… visiting… control centers… comms channels… flight phases… and transcripts… telemetry… rules being drawn up over long Mojavan nights… 

The cockpit of Slamdinskius… crying in his hammoc…. A great paranoid grid of intrigue… collecting on the saltdry lakebed… grey suits fly in and out… in a constant clockwork… that keeps the radiotower busy… with burgers… fresh fries… salads… hiding under the sun… the grey men file reports, conduct classified meetings… run their fingers thru pages and pages of ink… dried out… in the heat… 

Bleedin… crynig… in his hammock… procedures… testing… pushing buttons… weaving wires through tiny magnetic cores a thousand times….  There are drawings and test reports and weather logs and weather flying logs and logs for rain and logs for thunder and lightning and storms… driving the planes home… like the daysof pacific… fleet command… Philippines… razing rice paddy McPhoolus Johns… 

The Beverley Hilton… a large electric banquet hall blinking in and out of camera flashes… light blinding the front row of faces… smiles contorted black suit… a fine coterie of wines.a banquet hall aglow with the maddest, finest navy pilots, airmen… naturally pulling in the beauties of LA… on husband finding duties… or some other intent unknown…a thorough cia vetting only falls so far in on the doors… flooding out into the damp street…wet with lustwarmed wine softened… into Cadillacs… driving out… with her tops off an his throttling it… like a wartorn jet… like the good pacific days… out over Taiwan and Guam and bleeding strafing bombs into Japan… Tokyo… ablaze….  Ur nipples…they’re… ablaze… no really… stubbing outhiz cigar… cahooting… back in the blinking banquet hall… announcements are made… Hollywood gleam…Doolittle… Yeagar’s ghost barfin… Hughes the aviators… Horner of the north african theatre… a Princeton man… a sea of faces… caught in the clickenlight… rules..later will plot and point and name each coordinate… into a system…a paranoids system.. of the informasi on the fines pilots of the United Stotes… the a missing… a U-boat… off the coast of Guam…humming… 

Microfiche film in bralets… photograph developing ona thin film… the web is on first to a Japanese merchant.. in Chinatown (dontask)…then on into a web of corporate intrigure…right thru to a conglomerate… there are rumours… rumours of new bombs… jets… and electronics… a circuit… built in one material… izit true… his eyes… orbs above Tokyo… Tokyo… that has been rebuilt… patched back together… wiv American goodwill… capital… the zekes… folded up and integrated into the us flight programs…  the frequences are ahum wiv a new invention… 

missilemen… proliferating missiles out their ass… it’z a ass spraying missile mayhem down there… out in the testing yardds… they fly up hundreds of yards… and boom back down into the ocean… spitting out greatcconcentric waves…wakingup the sealife… theres Bomarc and Matador and Snar and Thor, Atlas, Titan, Navajo… 

Airmen nerves… drinking at a bar… I Ain no robot… godam… nazi think he is… von in the blinking electric banquet… a systems man from the war days… the collective… the Leni Riefenstahl atlas aloft…. The concrete… manifestations… of the willl…. The spirit… of a nation… of the ghosts… the swinging Mittelwerk corpses in the early evening dusk… 

Von was saying in hiz Germanicotexan tilt… the idiosyncrasies of the human being… immense speed… immense Fahrenheit on the nose….    

On the ground, doppler, intereferometers, phase modulation, amplitude modulation, optical… training out ona signal flighting the outer edges… 

Explorer IV ripples thiz nervous quiet…scientists, holding open theireyes wiv magnetic tape whirring…. Hunstville, Alabama, CCMTC, Florida, Blossom Point, Mayrland, Fort Stewart, Georgia, Havana, Cuba, Antigua, Quito, Ecuador, Lima, Peru, Antofagasta, Chile, Santiago, Chile, San Diego, California, Woomera Australia, Fort Belvoir, Virginia, Goldstone, California, Aberneed Pvg Gd, Md, White Sands, New Mexico, Van Buren, Maine, Fort Monomouth, New Jersey, Temple City, California, Ibadan, Nigeria, Singapore, Malaya, Guam Island, Wake Island, Johannesburg, South Africa, Bonn Germany, Heidelberg Germany, Thule, Greenland, New Zealand, Fairbanks Alaska, Inoyakarn, California, Azores, Johnston Island, Sinop, Turkey, Berlin, Germany, Shemya, Alaska, Kaesel, Germany, Makebeleu, Hokkaido, Germany, Organ, New Mexico, Olifantafontein, South Africa, Woomera, Australia, San Fernando, Spain, Tokyo, Japan, Characato, Peru, Shiraz, Iran, Curacao, NW1, Jupiter Florida, Villa Deflores, Argentina, Halekala, Maui, Hawaii…

Raw optical data… raw doppler data… raw interferometer data… flowing ina vast paranoid circuitry while the world sleeps… the optical flowz ina pipe out into the lake of the Smithsonian Astrophysical Laboratory, where Curt Tain sits nervously, reading ephemeris readings, reducing optical ddata… doppler data… flowz out into the Army Ballistic Missile Agency… whoz reducing doppler data east and west out to Smithsonian and the Naval Research Laborators… where raw interferometer data is being cooked back to the astrophysical laborators… predictions flowing back to the tracking stations… ephemeric data… all flows into the nervous basement… of the Iowa Geophysical laboratory…at the State University of Iowa…. 

The sun burned hot… hydrogen converting into helium… a million controlled H-bombs…. The heat generating a pressure that enabled the sun to resist the attraction of its own gravity… eternally trying to compress it…. But in five billion years… the fuel spent… 

Take a sun more massive than ours… it’ll run its fuel lines faster… finishing fuel they begin losing heat.. contracting….a white dwarf… a neutron star… in some cases, the star may explode and throw off enough matter to bring its mass below the limit… but some stars will become so small that their graviational fields will bend light to the point that it comes back towards the star… no further light, or anything else, will be able to escape. The stars will have become black holes…. 

So sufficiently massive, so sufficiently small in size that its escpae velocity would be greater than the velocity of light….light would be dragged back by the star’s gravitational field… the effect that its gravitational field would have on nearby matter… 

“ Black holes are not completely black! When one takes the small-scale behavior of matter into account, particles and radiation can leak out of a black hole. A black hole emits radiation as if it were a hot body.”

“In 1973 I started investigating what difference the uncertainty principle would make to black holes. To my great surprise and that of everyone else, I found that it meant that black holes are not completely black. They would be sending out radiation and particles at a steady rate. My results were received with general disbelief when I announced them at a conference near Oxford. The chairman of the session said they were nonsense, and he wrote a paper saying so. However, when other people repeated my calculation, they found the same effect. So in the end, even the chairman agreed I was right.

How can radiation escape from the gravitational field of a black hole? There are a number of ways one can understand how. Although they seem very different, they are really all equivalent. One way is to realize that the uncertainty principle allows particles to travel faster than light for a short distance. This enables particles and radiation to get out through the event horizon and escape from the black hole. Thus, it is possible for things to get out of a black hole. “What comes out of a black hole, however, will be different from what fell in. Only the energy will be the same.

As a black hole gives off particles and radiation, it will lose mass. This will cause the black hole to get smaller and to send out particles more rapidly. Eventually, it will get down to zero mass and will disap” Excerpt From: Stephen Hawking. “Black Holes and Baby Universes and Other Essays”. Apple Books. 

Placed in orbit 26 July 1958, on a US army Jupiter C vehicle…. 

A plane streaks overhead… seein… night instrumentz… he seez a small fire on the beach… droops in fora closer look… why dam there’z a coyote but-naked down there… take thiz information bak to the The Society of Experimental Pilots… 

The Office Overlooking Berkeley Campus 

The Schwarzschild surface r= 2m is not a singularity but acts as a perfect unidirectional membrane: causal influences can cross it but only in one direction. 

Radiation luminosity… outward radiation… inward gravitational pull… feeding… Eddington limit… burping starz… quasars fed on so much that the radiation Getz trapped by a blanket of infalling gas and carries it in wivit… thenwhen itz spent… pressure support drops… the core collapses in without allowing it to flow outwards and resist gravity… 

Great flowing riverz of light… in a fraction of a second… a bleed in the fabric… sterilizing worlds… habitable planets… a region of space from which nothing can escape u hear me… 

He’z tinkering inside his newest hulking particle accelerator… asif he was in a lift back in Greece… Nazis asking for his name… tell them… Im not here… running out past the brush…. Into a curtain stray….  The toolbox flighting down an empty liftshaft onto Herr… Greköring… 

Tracing an arc… 

That Episode About the Society of Experimental Test Pilots (SETP) 

Out in the heat of the Mojave… heat gathers in the wateringcan… systemsmen… in grey suits… the test pilots… wivhiz chest pumped out… theytryna make us dam night automatas… nodifferen from the Russki Soviets… I Ain no robot… 

Quoting out sum long forlorn French passage… ‘the machine, which at first blush seems a means of isolating man from the great problems of nature, actually plunges him more deeply into them. As for the peasant, so for the pilot, dawn and twilight become events of consequence. (Antoine de Saint-Exupe ́ry, Wind, Sand and Stars) 

Feedback, control, computing… inertial navigation systems, accelerometers, spinning gyroscopes, radar… simulations, control centers, communication channels…after sputnik… the pilotz should be paranoid… the robotz arre coming…. There was von Braun… the Chief Automata von Braun…. 

Phases of flight… transcripts… telemetry… the interface… the bleeding edge… ova hands-on flighting to a computer, rule-based future… the prizoned cockpit… Slamdinska…crying in his hammock… not from not traumatic reliving… but from the shackles… holding him..now… 

A great paranoid collecting on the desert… grey suit managerials… machinists… skunk workers… farmers…armymen and navymen…. reports… meetings… testing machines… developing procedures… practicing button pushing, weaving hair-like wirtes through tiny magnetic cores thousands of time…. Interoffice memos, engineering drawings, test reports…. logs….dry mission transcripts, technical briefs… abstractions… 

The Society of Experimental Test Pilots (SETP)… 

One large electric banquet hall squinting… hooting-tootin out past the dry desolation of Edwards Air Force base… south-blinking out of the Mojave… lakebeds… dried out remniferous stacks of reddened coyote dirt… the Beverly Hilton…is aglow… when they swing in… wheels rattling…over bumpers… girls are gathered, including one Chiarascuras cousin… Hollywood gleaming… 

Doolittle, who gaveitto Tokyo, Slamdinska chasing hiz coordinates out in the maze of bodies…hearty loud rumbling yeagars… Hughes, the aviator…. flightsout all over the world war… slamdinska’s glowing… Horner out over north africa… a graduate degree from Princeton… black tie….event… except the camera…a sea of faces turned out toward thecamera… the paranoidz…amonguz wuld take a ruler and plot each name each coordinate… system… 

She knowz the photographer thiz night… she comes to take a microfiche film of the photo of the proceeding…. To gather names… companies… 

Sell it on at some price to a conglomerate of Japanese sea merchants… Ramophone iz in the parcels game… he heard of thiz Society of Experimental Test Pilots… thru the radioset… 

Ejection seats… escape capsules… pressure suits, goggles, helmets… a golden age… Bomarc, Matador, Snar, Thor, Atlas, Titan, Navajo… US airforce men were making missiles that flew lke airplanes but were rockets… with that dam modifier unmanned… 

What if… von was sayin we could removeus the idiosyncrasies of the human being… his German tendency toward a more collective sense…his security clearance… theze men are too cockpit sure… in Germany… the system… this system that… 

Then news broke out… sputnik… launched into orbit… from some dust-ice strewn debris field in deepest darkest Kazakhstan…  

Red Moon  

Wassenaar… evening dusk… lights receding… the Hague glowing… climbing out over the Dutch coast…. White vaporm trail… 5000 Fahrenheit…. SS Grupenfuhrer Hans Kammler… cracking of a whip… breaking the sound barrier… accelerating… outfalling its blast wave…. Ten miles below… coastline receding, black North Sea… twice the speed of sound…. gyroscope… gimballed spinning wheeled 2000 revolutions a minutes… pointed in the same direction no matter what…. accelerometers… reading the rockets rotations…. Reduce trim… a fin flicking outward…. The rudder twisting… angling… in…. infalling… proppellant burning off… fifteen miles up above dark black north sea…. Entering the upper atmospheres…. Liquid oxygen breathinout in the dying atmosphere…. Negative G compressing the nose and ribs… the skin itching from friction…17000 or f the 27000 pounds now lost….flighting at a mile a second…. Then… sixty three seconds into its flight… the turbine cut…. Fuel tapering off from the combustion chamber… a projectile… camouflages in signal white…hanging as if suspensed in… yet still rising… the inertia… driving it upward… 3500 miles an hour…. Twnty miles,, thirt miles… ten second pass… in-finality… apogee fifty two miles… brushing the edge… imperceptibly… the tail dips… hurtling at five times the speed of sound… altitude then velocity begins falling… stabilizer fins griplesss… inersia listens… listens tentatively to this all… her father’s boots by the door… the moon is glowing outside… past the treeline… there are buildings… chimneys….a foul air… from sewage father says… she knows there is a war… that he works with you… that will take u one day to the moon… 

London glows its own early evening….rush hour tapering off… traffic blinking out… dinners serving up… lights of apartments… warm heaters… blackouts… no longer enforced…. Murrow is in hiz study… prapering an efewning broadcast…. 

Above the inkblack northsea… freefalling, plunging at 3400 feet a second…. Through thickening atmosphere, thins regaining traction… the nose cone glowing at 1100 degrrees…. A bright streaking glowering hulk flight over Ipswich… trysts on the beach front in Southend on Sea… pivoting… a grayish green blur… no identifiable markings… the Vergeltungswaffen-2…. Hurtling in… blind on a ten mile raduis… east end… city.., tower of London…. -in falling on Chiswick… redtile roofs and coblletone….the sonic boom was trailing it… it was… a silent streak… look mama… a star…. 

Slamming into Staveley road at Mach 3, gouging a crater thirty feet long and eight feet deep, impacting high explosivews… nitrate and amatol…. Walls of bedrooms collapsing inward… floors imploding… dust brick splinter… shrapnel… furnitures hallways… a great noiseless vacuum…television with the sound off… a small mushroom cloud… a blast wave… collapsing lungs dying silently in her seat…. Then another…. Sriking death from the stratosphere… a cold rain…. 

Adlershod… Zhukov’s tanks… the first Ukrainian red army rolling through surburbs of broken Berlin…. Debris litten steets… bomb crates…. glass… a gray merdeces pulling up to a tall grey building…. German chartter… and the sound of heavy tanks clattering past… firing on the Reichstag…. 

In the dark… theris equipment, safes, precisiion tools, files with test data… blueprints… white laborates in neat order…civilian speciliasts… pouring in on Germany… a reversal of the infall of rocket… inflow… of Dodges… Sutebakers… Boston B-24 bombers… chasing the rocketry components… bluepinrts… in Berlin alone… there is the Askania factory, the Siemens plant in Spandau, the design bureau in Mariendord, Friedenau, a Telefunken factory in Zehlendor….

Magnetron tubes…accelerometer calibrators… polarized relays, transverse and longitudinal acceleration integrators – precision intstruments… thiz was the difference between the guided V-2 and the crude Katyushkas… launched out of the Urals… 

German precision engineering… the Carl Zeiss optical genius…. Shipping loot….

Khulman drafting tables, vibrations benches…. Photochemical laboratories … Philips, Rohde & Schwartz, Lorentz, Hartmann-Braun, Haskle, AEG, Karl Seizz…. A Siemens four mirror oscillograph…

…five hundred miles west of Berlin… the Plaza Arthenee… a Washington crackteam… searching the scavenged rubb;le…. A black list of names… hiz on it… von Braun… the 24 year old military rocktman….

Peenemnunde, in the cold sandy islet of the Baltic…overran by the First Belorussian Red Army Group …assemlby lines stretched out when the air raids came… 

A message infalling on Frankfurt G2 intelligence headquarters… the Harz Mountains central Germany… an odor of decaying corpses in a passing prisoner train…. Following the tracks… a hundred miles… a railcar… emerging in the morning mist…. Grey bodies… backbones proturting somachs… a tunnel hidden… falling into the mountain…. 

Mittelwerk… a giant subterrenaena V2 factors… and Dora… the camp…. 

A map… Nordfhausen, Thurinsgia…. Thw soviet Zone… an inspection team in Fulda… subassemblies… gathering dust and putrid air… fuel pumps, guidance systems… electronic relays…144th Motor Vehicle Assembly Company…

Mittelwerk… hauling one hundred intact rockets… filling 16 libery ships… onto White Sands Proving Ground, New Mexico…. Liquid oxygen plant… fueling equipment, static test firing rigs… mobile launchers… precision tools…sensitive bench instrumentation panels…the engineers.. gone… tunnel lights sabotaged into darkness… 

And five hundred Russians, poles and Hungarian jews… buried at Dora… hanged for minor infractrions from the overhead crane that ran the length of Tunnel B…. Corpses dangling above the V-2 assemly line… 

Swinging gently in the wind… four prisoners dying to each V-2, 5000 of which procued at Mittelwerk… a vast intricate cavern netwok… but there was someting missed… a distant wooden barracks hut…. Hidden there inside…. A sphere… a gryo-stabilised platform…. 

Bleichrode… a potassium mine… guidance system components… a Viktoria Honnef range control and lateral radio correction sets… a foresters cabin… relay boxes… firing control pannels… a sand quaary in Lehesten… combustion chambers… fuel pumps, injectors, engine parts to fill fifty eight railroad cars…. 

A thousand German engineers flooding out across the Werra River into the American zone… assembly instructions, blueprints, manuals, hidden at the bottom of a mine…. 

The draftsmen… lower grade engineers… subassembly men… they have the fuking top men… Grottrup… von Braun’s deputy for electric systems and guidance control…. …

Kidnap von Braun….  Entering a schoolhouse in Witzenhausen… english with a strange accent…. Dismantling the Soviet Zone… shipping east… blueprints… turning up behind woodpiles… toolshed… homes of former factory directors… partially destroyed attics… among them: the proposal, top secret for a more powerful rocket… the one hundred ton A10… a long range two stage rocket to strike New York and Washington…. A tranzatlantic rocket… Stalin did a jig… 

1956… 

ZIS limousines… Staraya Square… Gorki Street… fifty story wedding cakes in dark gratnie… the ring road… an eight lane morotway… asphalt moat…. Bas reliefs… giant steelworkers… Leninist statues… monochrome… cement forterssers…. GLORY TO THE WORKERS… PEACE TO THE PROLETARIAT….

Wind howling in off the Urals… gas lines exploding… roofs leaking… NII-88…tucked outside Mosdow… Dulles: the Soviets sought not a place in the sun,  but the sun itself.’ 

B-47 lonh range bombers… planes flying a thousand sorties from thirty airbases… to intimade…from Thule, Greenland over the north pole, into Siberia, probing gaps in Soviet radar defenses… RB-47s… undersides painted white to reflect the flash of a nuclear blast…. Flying in broad daylight…. Defensless against a polar attack… bases in Greenland, Norway, Germany, Turkey, Britain, Italy, Morocco, Pakistan, Korea, Japan, Alaska… LeMay… dreaming obliteratas of all the great soviet cities…. Then came the B-52 Stratoforetress….flying straight from home… crushing the Tupolev TU4, we cant even reach New England….  Old England… guttural soviet laugh….resonating… 

Dont u See… cant uzsee that this will be folded up and reopened in a new dimension…at a later time…. He drew out the magnetic tape recordings… for the year 1958… the cataclysm tales…. He’d been plotting the coordinates of nuclear tests…but there was also a hidden component… 

Something that was not part of the visible world…. The optical hidden… Nietszche, tattoed below his left nipple, reading: 

Freedom you all most like to bellow but I have unlearned belief in ‘great events’ whenever there is much bellowing and smoke about them. And believe me, friend Infernal-racket! The greatest events they are not our noisiest but our stillest hours. The world revolves, not around the inventors of new noises, but around the inventors of new values, it revolves inaudibly. 

The R-5…Twenty nine tons, 1200kilometre range… capable of carrying an eighty kiloton nuclear warhead, six Hiroshimas…flighting to a target near the Aral Sea…. 

Vaporising cities in a moment… war that had seemed incremental, attritional… Stalingrad… disappeared…. 

The countries in its range? He produced a map over Europe… arcs, circles drew outward over India, the Soviet blocs, East Germany…. Bar Spain and Portugal… five warheads would destroy England… five? Yes, cerush defenses, disrupt comms and transport, destory London…. 

redstone

Beneath the blue slate of Alabaman sky… Appalachian foothills…brown carpet… Tenessee river south… unsulating…. Hunstville Conferate battles and home to US Army Ballistic Missile Agency… humiliating infantry defeats in the Korean War…

Redstone Arsenal… metallurgical and chemical laboratories… static firing stands, strapping a rocket down to two twin towers, firing at full blast… supersonic wind tunnels…. The hangar… 

Lightweight aluminum alloys, transistors, flight steering, rocketdyne engines… 

“March 1956…

tbilisi – the Kalevalan arc… 

Car horns blaring… over the mountain air of Tbilisi…. Orchards, ravines, sulfur springs… Stalin and Beria… Georgians… the chaotic landmass of Russia above… apparatchiks carrying soft slurry Georgian accents… Dideba Did Stalins, Long Live Stalin…Log Live Georgia…volatile Caucasus…risked inflaming the Kazaks Uzbeks, Tajiks, Tatars, Baits, Moldovans, western Ukraians…Poles, Czechs, “Bulgarians, Romanians, Hungarians, and East German…the protest grew… paralysing… locomotive factory… a huge crowd descending on the radio and telegraph station in central Tbilisi… demanding to broadcast… tanks stood around… 

a nest of foreign spies incited the Georgian uprising… THE KALEVALAN ARC… 

The great Terror… an arrest… the rasp of the needle on the gramophone that kept churning its spent record while the men in black ransacked his apartment; the sound of the trolleybus bells ringing six stories below; the hushed whimper of his three-year-old daughter, Natalia, as she clung to her terrified mother….the Kolyma mines… work at 4am… sixty below zero darkness… pickaxes, wheelbarrows… 1941, Korolev transferred to a special Sharaga minimum security technical prisons Beria had set up… 

A multistage rocket… nose cones unable to withstand the heat generated during 24,000 feet per second atmospheric reentry… 

Poznan… general strike… liberalization of the de-Stalinization decree… blown in westward from the Caucasus to the plains of Poland…. Into the heart of the Warsaw Pact…. Rokossovsky massed troops outside of Warsaw… with distress signals… flighting out of the embassy….

Hungary….Budapest… the radiotower… sixteen points… freedom, food, less police interferences, fewer travel restrictions, withdrawal of Soviet troops… Radio Free Europe… secret police, informers… hung from lamposts by raging mobs… Imre Nagy summonining Yuri Andropov… KGB…November 4… BBC: “The Soviet Air Force has “bombed the Hungarian capital, Budapest, and Russian troops have poured into the city in a massive dawn offensive… tanks rolling in… corpses… Nagy executed… house arrest… Kremlin hard-liners…

RAMOPHONE… WAS TESTED IN AN LSD EXPERIMENT… gone Mad…taken to moving drug shipments… selling them in California… 

VON Braun… incriminating war files… Nazi party ties… slave labor… SS promotions… 

For Bliss… brown plains… dust… tumbleweed, buzzards, cactus… jagged red peaks of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains… Rio Grande… Mexican pueblos… impregnably black nights… hot Texas sky deep blue… mercilless… old cavalry outpost… adobe walls… a rat shack… far from Peenemunde… his sailboat…and Messerschmitt plane… a four star Schwabes Hotel… wine cellar… vintages seizes fromfrance… 

1Rocket propellants – fuels, oxidisers…Liquid Rocket Propulsion Laboratory of Picatinny Arsenal…

Borovsk, Kaluga Province, 1903: Exploration of Space with Reactive Devices 

1883. Z. F. Wroblewski, University of Krakow, Austrian Poland, announced to the French Academy that he and his colleague K. S. Olszewski had succeeded in their efforts to liquefy oxygen. Liquid nitrogen came a few days later, and liquid air within two years…June, 1901, five liters of liquid hydrogen successfully conveyed through the streets of London…

Die Rakete zu den Planetenraumen, or The Rocket into Planetary Space, Oberth, 1923… “Verein fur Raumschiffart, or Society for Space Travel, generally known as the VfR, was the first, in June 1927. The American Interplanetary Society was founded early in 1930, the British Interplanetary Society in 1933, and two Russian groups, one in Leningrad and one in Moscow, in 1929….Fritz Lang… Frau in Mond

F.A. Tsander… Luigi Crocco, Italy, 1930…nitrogen tetroxide… VP Glushko… Leningrad… beryllium… 

Excerpt From: John D. Clark. “Ignition”. Apple Books. 

London Soho, etc. etc. all conditioned by the bomb, the V that fell…. The void of the sunless day….  The interzone…. What is its shape? Is it nacreous damplit bars under london, a tubemap of clandestine, doowoga dance, kisses, caresses, menage a trois || naked lunches… the interzone… londinia….  Resonance patterns…. 

Lucian lashed against a ruinous slab, hard rain, traffic blinking out in deep lateral grains, tremors under velveteen dark, rushing the day’s end out past the more desolate parts of the city. Rain comes down, lashing the tryst in chiarascuras of trellis light, pylonesques of white noise fade-in against the screaming, earbite, skin toarse, pulling closer, angling in jet white on her chest, the light coming before or after, faint q marginal 

the Lucian Sink or the Lucian Sinewave, faint q marginal.

Lucille is leaning on a roof-ledge, pad on hand, a moon caught deep turning up the sinewy river, barge lean light caught in the wicker of monitor light, a cold wind is blowing over tonight, projector thrumming steadily, a resonance patois with her breathing, drawing out the 35mm wartime De Vry lensing in on the corpse strewn funereal on the couch, droolglimmer, awhile deep at the base of the highrise, car alarm, viddied juts of time, 3am, her nerves are splayed, looking out for Herr lucian, come arun, over arabesques of Marshall plan sinewaves, radio Lux limitfade, interlacing with the Goon Show, doctor who’s there, no its not doctor who its me! bombsprints through alabaster, gargoyle nights, flowing faces into faces, gargling faces thighs in faces, spinning Henriettaguns, gadunkgadunk, lunaratic, a sink. The sink. Secret cracking thunderous spurts of roman aquifer, humming, climb in, sez Lucifer. 

Filmic, morning light wakes the scene when she levitates down Soho into the OSS underground, where Roy Cubins is fighting Awall Ackson over the Palestinian pudding public announcement system, good eveni – check 1, 2, good eve-ni, canvasing applauds from the ramparts of openpipe hiss in – herr good day mzz Lucille – ravenous splitchecks of eyeballs printing, PORNO CINE CLUB 35MM, tits – Alavoil Amacarindo, (Alavoil A.) the Chilean is inside, splicing up a map of London by some slothropic cord of psychokinesis, pin-works thru an alabaster shore of V-enetic antegrade rubble.  

There’s a visiting conductor (he sez, toreodor tonguechileic the ter), bombed out and up flew the ugly sixties hotel, the Saint George’s Hotel, a polytechnic, concrete… – a glimmer beat – ‘But you’d love Los Angeles Ala!’ Eye patois. Ala’s endocrine is ashimmer, out of spine reaching into the camera equipment lain stretchered on the canvas, sleeping pills, ina bottleshook dalliance of invective light, candles with a click sudden float in across the void and they’re slumped, watching the deep aberattions of mortar pipe, fires dappled by raidlight, streets sinkblown to a sunderous interface with – dogs, pavlovianas running toward the lens, breakering, darkblip, eyeshuttered sudetenclik, and they’re hurtled back antegrade splintforward into some weimarian dream sequence, swing bebop dalliancing, Lucille blinking, alaba hisss-olvnig into the cut, high brutal concrete, the sound is amplitude modular of alabaster blown/grown through a gap in time, this could be – trailing – ‘now’ she blinks, dust apparitive out of bombsink sennagrade, brutalista highrise, Eyes ablow full Orion discs, with the darkness enclosing, ‘mesmeric’ – ‘atmosferic’ – dancing behind retinas, the city moves in morning light, remote to this blowout of cinematic masonry underground, and she’s dragging her sense backward through the door, screaming out for the clear air, the light of day with Alaba gleaming right through her like the alabaster is hers. 

_________

The k on the Ocean Sink Surrealists fell off, viddied by a teddyboy kristalnacht assault of goodsesne blownin over, Ocean Sin, to the latenight, sunrisen brighton pier trysts viddied, sun burn the backlegs, roar Tommygun expresses, blond leg thigh aris, CI-581 1962, dissociative anesthessalonikita kruscheva  

Dematerialise Our City Kunt! Films Under Collective Kabal (DOCK FUCK) opening night, fortifying ceiling light, a trail of firework, smearing flutes, alaba front row animating through twin gargoyles inover the atlantic, the patient in Vienna is the very city itself, ‘ah’ ‘yeas- ‘dematerialised  psychological flows, striating, shearing diverging parts’, tearing at a canapé of resonant dust – ‘sentiment, concrete, dream, pulling apart, ripping their eyeballs out under the monitor’ Under the effects of amphetamine psychosis had Nina fitzroved to the idea that We is dopplers in the radiowaves, phwooosh, basilisk trail deep earth Richter cracc, up there, pointing in their eyebals: We is speck, take a droogi, zloop up into B24, no U2 plane…70,000 feet-  lucian glides past in trails of trellislight terraforming through a dressdoor on an orgy of limbs carapesced, open sky anxilia, Berlin calling, fire light blowing, 

Laing and Troptree an early surgeon of French new wave onacouch, OCEAN SINK SURREALISM is anti Kitchen Sink Surrealism, anti-realism inaway, francophonic, the wave is large, tu vois? Tuba-leaning facespitton … we experience also war, waste, shanty, docks, warehouse, girder, iron, blownapart, so vous stroll, ramble through pure optical sonarous, shear-zone, so ze images fracture, shatter, location iss blurry, camera speeds thru fears – Ludovico, an Italian neorealist apparates out of the limbnami, mussolini! mussolini! Mussels vwher? There dapplering off into corrugated lunar double of the dock water, sheen, DOCK FUCK, with the shots broken open, obliteratas of spatial indeterminacy, godardesques, straubian amorphas, deepening stratas of emptying, empting light canisters, fassbinderen schmideten fear, city-deserts, mirrors, proliferating points of view with no connection, violenca. A suit out past the makeshift bar jetties, succubus-whispers, German officer visits Picasso in Paris, bombs phwop phudding, and he sees Guernica, agawp revulsed at the modernist chaos sez to Picasso, did you do this? And you know what he says – beat –  no, you did this! Guffaws, wineblows Crescenda Piliptout overzeala flying ona martini jet toward the li-

Laing drags a sovietal of wood light, cast ina dreamscape of tarkovskian forest, sentinel white retinal dream-like clears of terror to hammer his own: there are, two waves, this wave, mirroral awareness wave of oneself by onseself, and this wave, awareness of oneself as an object of someone else’s observation. Two sinewaves, bipolarities of an individual… sometimes resonating, sometimes – laingeyes bulge shear, torn! Audible gasps awhile from the pantry taper in, a man lathered in butter, now flying through the room trailing slips, falls, screams, 

DOCK FUCK is here tonight on the edge of the depthling, lost sinewaves of a cold isle dog dock, tonight in a delusion from the war, a whole ionospheric conspiracy of localised waves, subplots, tendrils of light, gonegoes of dark germanic p-waves, Hans and freids, rivers of film, contorting, refracting, byeshadowous of the inter-z of – he can’t finger, loose his drawers over the sink out pantrypast corridor, this Ninadaughter, head flown back, fuc king beelt-  whiplashing katabatic troptree on the chimney, gabling mussels from under the empty dockfreight, – Ala awhile voiling deeper inward, staring at the gargoyles nowblown open on chaisse, a lung in the piano, heartcords ablunting chandelierous that They should chase a clip of the ocean void of human coordinates…   filming on a frigate in bering-like cold channel, white visitation bright against the dover cliff…. A story of love and schizophrenia an oil man falls in love with a mer-woman named Goebbelina… the anti-kitchen sink, OSS, sem acronym as the Office of Strategic Services 70 Grosvenor Street, asking a B24, no U2 special op crowd to fly a camera crew over channel, Manifesto 121 algerique spootter, riding wave of tradecurrentz – time juts, the wave begins gathering backward, vialas moving the butterscape to buddhalin pillows afloor, light dropping, monitor clicking abak lighting a door light upon the wall to a silence of 59

Hiroshima mon amour, chiarascuro of wet ampouler arms caressing, paining, limbs atouch slow piano to oboe, You saw nothing in Hiroshima. Nothing. I saw Everything. I saw the hospital – I’m sure of it. The hospital in Hiroshima exists. How could I not have seen it? Gliding through a corridor of elysia, Japanese woman-nurses, sliding violins, entering the room where she lies, transferences of eye-camera holding, holding notes. You didnt see the hospital in Hiroshima. You saw nothing in Hiroshima. Four times at the museum. What museum in Hiroshima? stairs, caverns, brutalist alleys, infralight concrete heat capacities, spinning orbic lightstrings 

Troptree idles forlorn, by the black mussel-less lake, drags the water with the tip of his balletic shoe, a voice cuts him up off balance: ‘it’s wun great current, squinting at a boatswain’s figure on the yacht H. Drax, Troptree stepping into the lunar hold, Wimpole Street psychiatrist Eric Strauss is cowering inacorner, diastemic fingerholes I.F. Ian Fleming, I.F. InFernal machine, Drax real name Hugo von der Drache, his face pock raked like a moon by a wartime bomb – blast  turns the engines dalliancing out into midstyx, where to, Dover, to meet Propellant Silo, revolutions of torque enginingout, the musselim.  Then they are out, burning oilslick wickerlines of thamesblack, silvertown humming, docklands turning in and out the wares of the oceancities…channel widening… outover Brunelian tunnels… trystscaught in the paraffin lamps… criescaught in the allies… easterly wind breaking small shapes of wavelets on the thames…trolleyfilled… 

The soiree breaks off into minor wrestlings, Ralph Rummney and the brushworks are casing the joint for liquid paints, pollockian scribs, abstracting semolina marks on the dock-canvas, tachismic smogaloid pissalating in the cramped working conditions of the pantry, sez Butterman Blow, transpires hub to Sandra Blow the abstractist, ‘is not a concious imitation of Pollock but a pragmatic solution to the conditions of the pantry,’ pav-loava stuffed in a deep tunnel of face that keeps lolapaloozing into the passing stream of traffic and bak aslinky so starts a spontaneous filmwork threading the thermonuclear umbrella as pollockian gu-spatter, antification of humanity under – half the hall are dead dead, half alive dead dying of leukeamias of soul, limbslopping off eyes splaying souljuice over the canvas, rolling machine-lenses zummeling up the flesheels, redundant alivedeads diving into dock water, emerging with soulshards peeling, distending, early cybernetic debaconizing eru-plasure to the night, launching in 3 – 2 – wan-jiging thru the crowd is Lucian achase of lorna kitty, who Meninsky is oiling in the third filmchamber now a smoky train of derangus Arab drumming, Gysin prancing about a stage splaying a huge corpse of canvas slop radio staticizing on a deep Midwestern drawl, and russki kopchekik light, bareels past limbs, screaming kitty, joinedby Sinclair Beiles out of the ramparts, Beiles plural! gu-footstepping a sea of Arab oildrums into a northseascape of liners poising after kitty, lost catkitten Masolinda, lost during the war in a rubble-sized Manhattana of bombstrew – clipping, heeling through to the static rite of axel light, bleeds, thru the stainglass, weeping, It’s a chapel? A chapel? Whaat? turings of cryptlace over the black mantle-drill of sonarlis. alphas gammas, amix in docksoup flesheel (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=31CcclqEiZw), Brenschluss Begun, the germano-israeli setman kibbutzas full camagear asinai souping gleeface toward Apiede Nuar in the drax-wake ofa skiffleboat, swaingon, moonface hesez eh, moonface 

fireworks, outanowhereus deep booomkaabitza, phwuush, pop, eyez poppingouta sockets of docklake, woooei, In this technologically triumphant age, when the rockets begin to scream towards the moon but the human mind seems at an even greater distance, anger has a limited use. Love has a wider application, and it is that which needs describing wherever it can be found so that we may all recognise it and learn its use. 

R.D. Laing Wumpole (rainlight) / patient who believes the northsea is chasing her / Vril / MKUltra, Porton Down William

Wimpole Rumpole 

Dancing in rain, wideeyed Laing 21 Wimpole, mescaline horizon blurring with the highrise dogeating, Marylebonus, sky white retinal, hi sez Mina Semyon, he’s peeling orange, she’s peeling-hanging her family, looming over largewall, evenetic grain siloes, laundryline whispers calling through coaliron fog, anticylonic eyeface transmissions bounding off bright planetial eyes, dreaming afuk over Scandinavian pressurefront, she drawing cold continental winds from her Tatarhood, curled up in a little ball in a damp cold room in the Tartar Republic, Laing moves the diluted glass from the small round innocuous room Rumpole, rocking with Mina in a rockchair rain patios sciving windows, ‘my father is dead, my mother is lying in bed with covers over her head crying’ ‘And the Tartar landlady?’ ‘whose son was just killed in the war, was lying behind the Russian oven wailing. I am sitting with shoulders hunched, sandwiched between their grief, my dress feels cold and damp, almost standing up, I am feeling a nobody, not considered, beaten down by life and abandoned.” Panda crossings outside Wimpole complexly sequenced, pulse and flash lights confusing drivers and pedestrians, smashing rainlate pedestals, the little girl imagining the atom bomb was in her stomach.

Minagoes, under the table, Laing finding a drainhole of scotch, climbing into a darkspace, dappled out of inkworn, discussing his doppler the Czechoslovakian supplychain of LSD, the dilution rate of dosage, the big bad wolf spiders, The madman often can be to us, Even through his profound wretchedness and disintegration – panda crossed – panda crossed,  the hierophant of the sacred, An exile from the scene of being as we know it – an alien –  a stranger, signalling to us from the void in which he is foundering, a void which may be peopled by presences that we do not even dream of. 

Soundlakes ripple from a crash past marlybone curb, curses, arabesques,  They used to be called demons and spirits, and they used to be known and named. He has lost his sense of self, his feelings, his place in the world as we know it. He tells us he is dead. But we are distracted from our cosy security by this mad ghost that haunts us with his visions and voices that seem so senseless and of which we feel impelled to rid him, cleanse him, cure him. In the multidimensions of streetlight, knocking on a door, a door that leads to, to the PM, Macmillan, yes, I am sleeping with the Soviet embassy building, come to Czechoslovakia, puzzlement, with me, dissolving into aether, grouse hunt to Netley rain, wild electrical vircators of arterial resupply, wartremors, fuck fronts, grounding psych-unit, fakeschizo pensionfraudee catch-22 undershocked across an insulin sky, Tavistock Monday, an explosion of doubledecker light, the outside falling in on a forest retreat, a calm above layers of tube tunnel, anxious screaming, electroconsulvive thalamotic, shock of light through the sill, still AM, Rehborn Ovah real name Ignatius Crutchley, MV windrush, identity card side-pocketed, next permanent residence ANOTHER PART OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE, 5 Carlisle Mansions, Carlisle Place, SW5, London, case the police aksme, Piccadilly Circus- that circus have a magnet for him, that circus represent life, that circus is the beginning and the ending of the world, nods off coffeecup –

Out in the distance, out past the void, glistening, Glissant waves of electrical light nearly touch at the edge of the evening, often forever, without knowing it, past the door of no return, an emptiness deep and endless

– Edith, naked again, Whitechapel Station carrying umbrella. Edith: I’ve no tongue. I’ve a tongue but it’s not my actual tongue. LAING: You have a tongue in your mouth anyway. EDITH: Yes, I’ve a tongue in my mouth, but it’s not my actual tongue. I’ve no actual tongue.  (I was a bit lost at this point.? Tongue = nipple (= penis). Tongue = nipple seemed from yesterday to be more important. She had apparently lost her “tongue” hence “couldn’t speak.” Had she been weaned? Bitten off and swallowed nipple? How lost it? Castrated?) but what level of regression to work on?) LAING Well I’m glad to hear that in a way. One tongue in your mouth is enough for anyone. EDITH I’ve a tongue in my mouth. (It peeks out from between her teeth rather coyly.) LAING You won’t lose that tongue. The other tongue never really belonged to you anyway. You must have pinched it from somewhere … You’ve at least ten nipples anyway. EDITH I was married. LAING To your father? EDITH To Dr Laing … Dr Laing cut out my tongue in Africa. (I had previously suggested that her mother had cut out her tongue for marrying me in Africa—when she said “Dr Laing cut out…” I was completely taken by surprise … silence for some time.) […] LAING I came here to see you but you were out with your mother and I had to go away. (reassurance) EDITH Yes. They told me there was a hole in the ground. They are going to take my brains out. I have beautiful teeth. LAING And no one is going to take a razor to them. EDITH I’ve no teeth. LAING It’s a terrible thing for a baby to dash her gums against granite breasts. EDITH Yes, it’s a terrible thing. I was born in Poland this morning. LAING If only you could have pinched your father’s pole. You’re a baby piper. EDITH My father gave me a kilt. LAING And the bone under the kilt?

Seismata, on her palms and feet, Ilse Thalassa-Braun, enters Tavistock, with her mother, Rehborn-turned, they are seismic prospecting in the north sea of her uterus…. 

The Electric Aretha Franklin comes out in March, The Tender the Moving, the Swinging Aretha Franklin in August,  with the Irving Berlin 1930s radiohit, creeping arpegiattic piano haunting abrasions of string and soul, Ilse’s soul staring out at Canning Town townhall, horror-come, canarygirl mother hammering on door, tea-ilse, stepping out into raingauze of traffic, pea-coal smog lacing to barrier, screaming, cometh light, air-raid shelters, tea-ilse- tea up up tippidy boo, jazzhanding, transmission stations, blitz-sirens, decommissioned deep, register jackripples of Germanic plot razorwave, vinelines with sea daemons, strange lights, black solarine spurts, seaweedwet pavements, black sootseet, passing ship foghorns, a naked girl by the barrier under moon, dopplers into control tower, comeascream, Aretha, protectorate of the English thames arteria against the black sunreich plot, bromine shelf of echoes, faint germanic, thuleians, storm troopers, depth breathers drowning east London, how deep is the ocean, up at the radiotower eyetoeye calming till the sirens come, blitz-, no blue-red, ambulatic pitched up, sectioned strings swooning, bare bossom feet kicking at policeman knows her mother, blinking rain, father strapped in an electric chair, magnetic currents looks like Bacon’s Study after Velazquez’s Portrait of Pope Innocent X, disintegrating, transference, transmitting to deathward oblivion, the V with his name on it, his calling, the Vat in the Can, Velazquezian horror, an interface of thunder…  magnetic magenta bursts

How much do I love you?

Oh, I’ll tell you no lie

How deep is the ocean?

How high is the sky?

How many, how many, how many

How many times a day do I think of you?

And how, how many rosebuds

Are sprinkled with dew?

Oh, yeah, how far, how far would I travel

Just to be where you are?

Oh, can anyone tell me how far

Is the journey from here to a star?

Oh, oh, right now and if I

If I ever lost you, ever lost you

Tell me how much would I cry?

Oh yeah, yeah

How deep, how deep is the ocean?

How high is the sky? Oh yeah

Aretha of the English Northsea Deep Reich Plot, cuts her teeth staring at the ITN reports of Nigel Ryan, real name Herman Quandt, halfson of nazi deepsea propagandist Goebbels, coded messages, humming power lines, strange surges, outages, 5am creeping spirits entering into Canning Town with bodies in the water, bodies in the water, black fogs, night days, Nigel, at the east German side of the Berlin barbed wire, in a room of German voices, pinhole eyes of the Ahnenerbe, August 23rd 1961. 

Jun 14th 1961 Nigel Ryan in Yugoslavia 

Jun 28th 1961 Nigel Ryan in Dalmatian Journey – Yugoslavia’s tourist coastline 

Aug 23rd 1961 Nigel Ryan with Crisis in Berlin- the East German erection of a barbed wire barricade on Aug 13th 

Aug 30th 1961 Nigel Ryan with Lebanese Holiday. Camera: Stan Crockett. Sound: John Collings. (originally planned for Aug 16th) 

Oct 19th 1961 Nigel Ryan in Singapore at the Crossroads 

Nov 2nd 1961 Nigel Ryan in Malaya  (http://www.78rpm.co.uk/itn.htm) 

Eniwetok | Brothers of the Milisecond 

Why do we speak of ‘The Bomb’… lezimagine bombs…. Defibrilate it… 

Cobalt, what is your position?  Thizis sergeant esmiol we are closing on 01 position 0634 over, 

hoosesz the earth’s square Esmi,  Ron LaFontes shouting over engines, spit flying parallelz over the light fleeing sumplace edges draining out, read me fuel tennis- 

Wutsai we finduz a square planet sum day soon

Wuldn’t be square-  How u know – fuel tennison, tapping the readostat, approaching 02 position control, over, 

If thizis a square planet, Europe wudnt be a straight sortie, butwutif the plane turnza rightangle when ur sleeping

blue light ripples underneath, chasing the Cobalt shadow 

i’m wassily slamdinsky… barrelling heehaw into pacific  ..   ina barrack, crumple rocking 

they gonna find us… Who gonna find us…  The coordinates to a alphau centauri signal…  slicks bouncing his memories out off the ionosphere…   we puttin on a show boys for the undersea cinema… see… the hydrosphere sir the exosphere… Why we a perfect ice cube boys aren’t we jus meltin Ina lagoon a cherryaid… 

Slamdinski’z over there, 

they gonna find us…

whos gonna find us? They gona find us 

issa signal, 

fires burnin out, flaredecks out channelsk  ripplin

the lightcuts ona thousand tents in a deep blue array, enginenoise drowninout canei see yuuu, pyrotecna pullin hiz bodi thru, doowop dance, lizzie turning, Hal’s singing overata bar, fading, glass crashin, blinkin, 

the synthesizer, itthrobs, currents flowin, blue vastin, redlight, threadin, warehouse light, cut thizflare, thankz fleeing pygmyeye, limbin, Ur in the radio, ur in the radio, ur ina bluesqure, 

Squall, radarous askews coriolis, 

silent current, flowing

von karman, ionosfearin

Energy

liberates the encampment

Heat pressure grows asunder, compressus gas, 

Expansions are proceeding, the wave crushes space, Delta

Delta delta… light and heat, radiating, distant fires turnin on, redskinnin 

Invisibilis radioactive retroactivez, the lens overheating, firing out high speed nets, chasing the shape

Control is a modulation….  Blast and shock, thermal radiation, initial nuclear radiation… 

Might seem a sphere but its a cube, rubnning up againszt see thiz, 

He folds out a long deep cast of negatives, 

Hydrogen lightest, uranium one of heaviest in earth… energy comes when we redsitribute protons and neutrons in the nuclei… 

THE DESERT SUN 

Desertsun iz hot butiz spectrum is too far in the infrared, no matter how long the radiation pours in, iz not able to raise the exposed surfaces to a reacting temprature….    U see that film Lawrence of arabia…iz being made Tunis… Morocco damfool… 

Source characteristics – explosion yield, the time and spectral histories of the radiant flux, the fireball geometry and the height-of-burst effects . Influencez adeep exposed materiel….  Thentherezus meterological factors, absorption difussion of cloud layers, fog may be just az effective azitis with sunlight… 

Butif iza burst beanath cloud layer, scatterings enhanced… the direct beam (i.e. the unscattered radiation stilllikely to be the most damaging since it is not much altered by diffuse reflection from clouds…

razinin scremuz light, darkness embeddedin, cloud, beer strafez out into coriolis,

Eliptical lagoon, deep water, perimetering, beneath the thermocline, a shimmer, anchorages closing down the night, dreams proceeding, stretching, pulling the encampment apart…densne groundvinesz brush, Tennison brushes out pas the treeline, searchin for hiz flashlite, studdina rock, hailing flatshoel godlite, brite cut, baseless, northeast trade winds are blowing a cool 9.6 knots east and northeas, bellying in… tide rising an dropping 3 feet, they out dancing in the canvas structure of the war… thiz treasurrous gasoline diesel drums, anchores chaining dragling buckets, salbvagine…

Two ten conductor signal cables 2 15 pair telephone cables, folding out between Eninman island ad the point zero, 

The powerplant is glowing tonight…blast and wave proofed to the surf…he jumps the shuttle across Eniwetok with the storm starting to scream against the glasspane, an Lutes shoutininhis ear wuya eating ten? Nothin – belowiz radio comms shooting fequency channels between atol an continental united states… wuya shootin tonight ten, seein hiz cameraoutpoking… nothin, mind us’ 

He rapsa coin on the shuttletop, leaping runnin, out into the shoal,reef down wherethey lay subcables 

Holmes&Narver men… are serious…scouting…ground recon… shelter subsistence, power fresh salt water.. recreateion, medical, communication facilities….  Oneday iin the pacific sumplace near china im gon havea place like this, indonesia- gold depositz..papua…. Ima build an island wiva chinaman railwaydid gd, whatu say…ur red eddide.. no im… no ur red edie u been bit?.. .hizlegz bulbing…blowing out…proportions…grwogin liekan adenoid poisonfluid bag…grounded nine flights… 

Out on the pier and channl…night operations…transhipping small vessels…moving ina light column of plankton…. glowing…. Why are they glowing… we all glowin ten- 

Moving out into the more remote regions of the lagoon, searching for the shot island… he’z madshot searchin for hiz suprematist canvas…. 

The Blowhole to Mu 

‘We are in a desert’ | meeting the optician | strange etchings                           

Tennison Kane, cutting past coral, schizing lightcordz raining down magentaskiz, fallin into a cool light space, whoz there’, optician, soviet frigate, Russian -low, bwe are in a desert…nothing is real except feeling… 

The air pullz out ov the room, ona tortutous ballet…helooking himmelesque… Frates cuttin shapezinto the ricebags, wunderin wherewe guna go… low array formation..into the cloud…izit a signal… the non-objective world… 

Written on hiz chest in dark thoracine, ‘the phenomenon of light in nature stirs up in the brain a series of optical conflicts (ills. 52, 53). they huddled back in the rice silo….  Iza war out there fellas… He’z crawling into the dehumidification rooms again,… searching for the stroboscopic camera…Shoootz himself in the rice grain silo… touchin himself ata 1000 shots a second….

The optical war began in the year 1958… the year the signal arrived to Alpha Centauri… 70 years later, the first ship arrived… two perfect hemispheres rising out of the ocean and arriving from space … the oumuamuiad… 

That this was their harvest, the planet arrived years later… by solar sails, pulling the earth-moon system out of shape… tides swept the south american coast… destroying cities… Earthquakes unravelled Europe, tearing open a new ocean south of Hungary… the east Chinese coast broke off drifting into what was left of the Pacific Ocean… a new continent appeared in the Arctic Sea rising magmatic… it was colonised first by the Russians, the Canadian-American conglomerate formed an occupied area… The earth’s magnetic field was damaged… solar storms stripped the ozone… emerged… thrown into acts by the gravity shift…

Stroboscopic Underground, Eniwetok 

Walk wiv me, Tennison, running out down past the rapped bar-light, looking nervous calm… wut’z up in the sky, training arrays throwing grids out into the Pacific… clearing the pump house and L-13 maintenance… latrines, showers…B-50 hangar… Loran annex… Radar unit hard stands… sentry post…weather supply office… signal corps repaire… b riefing and operation… guard house…magazine…AF Auxiliary pwoer.. nose hangar…cargo pier…emergency power….ice plant… base flight warehouse…base flight maintenance…inflation shelter hydrogen generator…. Navy boat supply…navigation tower…small boat repair… earthquarters….vehicle wash stand…garbage ramp…magazine…. Utility ooperation…Pershing field parade ground…ofices…refreshment stands…weather radar tower….tool room.. slab….quarters B-man… substation…motor pool repair shop…grease rac…swimmers tavern….duffys tavern…hobby shop…library…wimpysss..telephone termina.l….

Germhaus throws a sharp right… Tennison tailing.. running past thru gawking faces…  can’tu see im busy.. boiyoboyoboy… shuving strupedup looius out past the pingpong table… the mess tents are throbbin in the arc light… weather tent… is recording squalls growing out west…. Reports falling… in ships calling back…. Messages bornin out… a paranoid circuitrythis here deep pacifial blue… hiz hedlight switching… wherewu goin… downhere… they crawl out past tentsinto warehouse region… past the distillation plant… pumping… hunting a rhythm… the timekeepers shed… dispatchers tent… diesel oil storage… the smell of petrol… nights cut across Las Vegas spillin money… the dry bedlake heatblown Mojave whistlin past…. overheaddistant… light patterns… are forming…distending… V-shapes against the glow of sun… cosmic shimmerz… flake ice machine gargles five liutenants gathered talking baseball arcs…parabolas…telemetries…. Tap dancing neurons abouta stadium sumplace home… machine yard noise dapples out… past elevation dropping into coolness…. Germhaus dropsvoice into sum sort of father-like tone, an tenn’s slung back adirondackal… hunting hiz first coyotekill. watchthe towers..   light cums on and off blinking a code….  The V-shaped formations outnumber the light dying darker, minutes pass atomistically clicking in the timekeepers Sheed… time bent blasted boiled brokeninto the atom blasted time… curvatures of matter… abstract space gleaning open… the power and water distribution plant connectzup neuronal to the glow of the plant a mile ahead… waveback breaks lightly nearby… climbin… thiz that the scene climbinina weathervane cart…deep undermine… chased by the peenemunde ghosts… he’z seenit the designs… the arc of tsiolkovsky equations… the shed lies innocuous, swaying in the downed light… a light rain comin on over… breeze pickin up signalling storm… downhere… intoa tent sized nolarger thana 8man … then come concrete… down into a bunker…the humidity…drops into a quiet…. 

Surroundings are lenses… by the hundreds…stacked…. Optical eyes… like octopuz suspensions… like an undersea…cabal… warm..fuzzy..electric feel… y we here… I wana kis u… leanin in… fighting off imaginary squideels.. thiz is the ESP room.. arrest this man.! Hiz arms are caught up ina longjacketwhite… he’z thrown downona canvas…mouth opened…liquid entered… eyes optical starin right inona iris dilation…in a rhythm with this elipticallagoon intoa deep blue liquidyorb starin scared…listeni’m jus.. 

He’z thrown up into bunker… technical photography Unit 1303… high speed photography… 

They hook him up into the ESP device… a prototypic stroboscope… early dianetics… 

White cylinder about a meter in height…held against the Tangier rain… interior lit by a 100-watt lightbulb shining tulip bud slots…

The machine begins spinning slowly on a turntable… producing stroboscopic pulses of light in the alpha band of eight to thirteen flickers a second…. Closing the eyes… for minutes…kaleidoscopic visions patterns unfold in light flickering across the closed eye…. 

Brion Gysin…wide eyed blue..memerial…. Geometric patterns flowing across the surface… circles becoming squares becoming rectagneles…arcs…verticaliz of red…blue purple acid green organge yellow, nenons of velveteen shimmer… mosaics…sunstained glassy mountainz…. Tangier heat turned to cool…dappled light…fresh sharp definition… 

The people fan out. Disapprear…

The machine revolves at 78rpm, vivid colors…variations…waves of color…bands..spirals…blue…gasjet vlue scaralet emeraline green orange purple… cloedeyed…gawking… trees hills waves of color… 

Ur in paraphernalialess.. Palladian villa black woman in aprons.. carrying pyramids of fruit and flowers…. Balinese Ubur… white horses… forgetmenots…rivers..lakes..boats…castles… 

Entering a clear recene space… 

Psychedelis unfolding all over New York… machines whirring and flickering projecting across ceilings of bars…clubs… patterns of colored light… discotheques…. 

Eyes shut and eyes open…paradox…increase the wattage… mystical…Brion… 

Investigation into the borderlands… between dreams and waking thought

Shoreline waves lapping up against the Staff Sergeant and hiz liutenant, standing staring outa shoal of lights in the ocean…thizhere servedus our country against the Jayaponese, pullinout an old map, Amphibious operations against Japanese on the Marshall Islands 1944… convering on Kwajelein… Eniwetok…

The boat draws out out of the eliptical lagoon, cool northeasterly breeze ripplin thru Tennison’s mind, 

The Culebra Cut 

Gatunlights 

Downdecks, passing Cane, rippling out into the wirings and fuelspence, darkness collides on a single chasm, air stretching on pipesmoke, the Optician folds over unawares on a grid-cake of ship positions, organisational hoohaa, guffaws rippling from the bridge room, the USS lurches on mudbreaks deathly silent canaldrift, steelhull resonators pitched to the cord of radiowirings running the zone, USS. De Haven (DD-727) outon deck, pitching magic balloons up, Elkhorn, crew, oilblack overalled, lubricating engine hollers fold out over the current, the synthetic aperture radar operators are toying wiv instruments, the Culebra, moonbounce.  Planets glisten over the chiarascuren, sagward wires, heslams a liquorthum down over unlost rhumline, Hidemenot subs lurk, soviet trawlers, soon come over the radio, the open pacific. Atlantic, blue square, blacksquare, malevichs closing in. 

Passing thru the Culebra Cut, orders crackling in over the radio, threading a sinewave grid, Slomas Tynch is above deck, wavingdown the gatunlights, as one passes the next lights, in a celestial progression, minemaids, from deep, spy the hull passing over the brokenfields, deep under dynamite craters long flooded thru, in crazed westindian currents, they slatt at the hull, reboundings of the solar Cut, cools to the touch, Comehere señora, laydown stars in the zone, eliding, she waiting for him to move in and thru her, brokenback into the earth, the jungle,  

Optical shutters out past night, leaving radio playing sweet Hawaiian surf, slips out into the Balboan coaldocks, likehiz father pointing, shooting, industrial (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F5GsH22jq9Q) zonelight, working overtime at the Canal Record…systematise thiz canalventure son, for urAmerican compaatreeotz, swept over thru the isthums on hiz way to the Sacramento goldfields, beating brother disappearance into midle-america, her Navajo bloodflown, or someother indian darkness…

Argus 

Somewhere out in the darkness, dusted parkas hold the missile to the night, floodlight dappled onto a munchen scream, the air is tremoring, deckwork moving like a broken sinewave current, cut loose, raising hiz missile, Herr Oberth, guideropes, at the edge bulges warhead uranic, splitting wind breaks the thought coming, overboard 25 knot wind shakes the strapping, Cane is tapping nervously, thinking of amillion places he’d rather be, shooting daggered stares, Loo is chewing rope, cape billowing out behind, all fortyfeet, sixton the gantry watch, bridge-eye, launch technicians are watching, Dalwod is below playing bridge, cumming Monroe’z titsup against a shared sink, below fishschoalz waiting for hiz gloopcum reborninto mutan Dalwodz settlign the Amazon, terse announcements over the tannoy.. in the telemetry room, Dick Sulpa iz poring over the instrumentation, charts, feet moving between rooms, the RadioShack is a silent palll, sailors eyez agawp, swaying with the moodlight of the rocket’s final coming into the night-light, adistant, ina gridlace of silent partitions, ships crew the sorry scrub of Atlantic, sway the storm, Taskforce Enddays, waves crash up against the wide aft deck of the Sound… 

The storm pulls in deep beneath the tip of South America, rounds Buenos Aires, pullz out eastward, converging on the launchdeck, ov allplaces, horizontal driving lightflakes, cut the bodies into a baconesque stream, ionbodz, give me fuking weather updates, the meteoromancer is typing coordinates, chasing lowpower radiocurrents bouncing in from the Cape, Rio, Buenos Aires, Falkland…lunial bend… 

Tennison Kane… writing a story in the hull of the ship by nightbreakers… of wave…   the cosmic signal of the atmospheric test….   Imagining a planetoid race… lizard-like…. Inhabiting an atmosphereless… oceanic—-world… their eyes are large…distored discs…. Or do they echo-locate… the neuro-synthetic shapes…. solaris… Lem-like… SETI

Tennison draws his notebook out with Case messing with the lightswitches again, tracing gargantuas on the hullwork, gawping, pteradactyls of loss tremor pass, he sees Mala on the platform winking out, prairieland, rocking on the porch, with a lunar hand laid on his right shoulder, hears her whisper, missile-prayers, wen this goes up, ziit gona come down, morbid bets are placed, will they be wiped, silent into Americana, sunk deep in the Braziil anomaly, sum magnetism drawz them over to the window to watch a flare go up sumplace out back toward the continent, Dreiz thinkin ov home, which means hez knockin his foot against the table, throwin handz in drumkitz ov misile rhythm, haz a brother somewhere out up Edwards Airfield flying F60s, 

The optician is abord, optician the chef is near blind, serving great slops of soupouta barrell half uranic, glows at night down the corridor, catch Loopou sneaking out past hour to catch this magicla soop, ladelling golem, Chief Cherribake almoz slips outa his candylace, finding wideyed pokes… 

Mesureus the optical effect here of this… experiment..he haz a little germanic lilt, guffawic heinrichals of phlegm spouting out hiz eye… heads over to the cave of drawers, pulls out a map, – lines, latitudes, gradientss, shapes, da-vinci like orbs, interioral retinas, We each owe us a coronal debt for thisthat time, she’s gone, propulsion of the interstellar ark, the optical arclight, the eye iz a missile, boi, inertial referent, lezz prone to the Currents..he uses the currents, like sum substratum of the mind, intelaced, 1 night out on the deck, hemso lowering him down into the oceanedge, test the water with a long finger, see boiz the current, ov us, gliding over thiz dream, he sleeps with a pistolof whiskey and Jung book, lapeled, prone to momentz of enlightened frenzy, by hull-light, measuring distances, how long fromhere to that there africa, pointz out, counts, drops his ballbearings into a pendulum fashioned against the engines… he iz solving for sum mission that lays him out flat on hiz bak peering wiv a Galileo telescope on the deck, bov the bridge, holdz it to the Orion belt, names the crystals ov the sky, sez he’s duebout now hiz eat, takes a large dip of starlight, ramz it down his eyez, burps, sez the universe nighon burpz, belches, were to send the signal boi, then the ark, he speakz riddlic, coronal debts are due, da Vinci was a queer, propulsion isan optical emulsion of the lizard evolution. 

Europa’s oceans are blown out prismatic, lem-like, turning over the tidal pressure of a million atom bombs, were the atmosphere like mercury, the sound would split our eardrumz into a thousand shards of spherical fishgut, you look different, 

The Optician draws them into a target room, shuts the lights off dark, plankton, drift luminiscenes, switchez the radio to a channel of ghostz screaming, he pops up the teleometer, would the eyes of this alien race be different to ours 

He carries about Max Born… Optik… 

Brazilian nights. 

Tennison Cane is splayed out ona veranda of deckedge, aperture closing on the falling disc, squints, eyesorb, his nostrils perk, bridgesmoke curling out a window hulldown into hizhoote- hoots, screams, cardshuffle, breaks the calming waves, Atlantic currents pulling them southward down the coast of that great bolivaran mass, 

Nightsprior, climbing off the USS Sworton Hound into the Rio night, gliding past bars, beer flying, televisions caught in half-light, espaniol madrez cursing their daughters, caught up in the current, beaming now past the carnivallihtz, telemetry shack sleepers catch the ping ova marauding current, stealing the senoritaz from their needlework, Quincy and Bobby Terrel plugged the ratio of sailors to girls, came out hooting all over the 

He’z late back running the streets of Rio, with a hooker named Seleina chasing his tails, carnivalesque light, Russo-argentine agent on his tail, searching for the magnetic… device…

IKARIE XB-1, Lemites, gathered below the avenue, read aloud extracts of Lem, Oblok Magellana, 1955, 32nd Century, Gaia left for Alpha Centauri, eight years, organic lie, findz an old artifical war satellite, U.S. of A, weaponz biologik, nukez, Gaia detects a radar signal directed at it, coming from one of the planets of Alpha Centauri. “Gaia” approaches this planet and tries to contact its civilization, but all messages remain unanswered. When they attempt to land on a planet, they are unexpectedly attacked, and 10 astronauts are killed. Nevertheless, the crew of Gaia does not strike back, supposing the inhabitants of the planet mistook a peaceful landing for aggression. Eventually the contact was established. Gombrowicz, stalkedup from Buenos Aires, sitz ina corner, pall of kosmic smoke 

He lowers the film into the watery mass, dark room, swaying. Time you loosen your purse and grab, scran, Murphy takes a leak on the new plant. Patters off. Forested, beneath a webwork of tunnels stretch into control rooms, artillery barracks, sweatrooms, bedless bunks, drills are set. Seasick ovement of the eye right, murph stares out and sees – sees Tenaphor Jackson, sliding out across deckwork, holding a – a fuse! 

Solar currents glinting off moonrock strike the boat oblique, rendering the missile’s shape open,  unbeknowsnt belowdeck a slow pitch is gathering on the wind. Lupus is talking in a lowdrawl to a giant whale, sonar thrum etching the diagram of the shot, parabolic endpoint. 

PLOT MOVEMENT 

The flowing current of an optical tremor… born over in myriadals… the search for the identity of the optician… experiments in LSD, stroboscopes, the Soviets…the Indies…pulsing… kesslerizing identities… fragmenting… rochelimiting… fading…

WHAT CAMERAS WOULD DEVELOP ON A DIFFERENT PLANET? 

The Brothers of the Millisecond concerned themselves with this question… 

If our cameras developed rapatronically etc.. Etc… from the nuclear bomb… from the ocean from flight requirements….  How would photography develop on a different planet… one where nuclear explosions are more frequent…. One dry like Dune… ?

ITS ABOUT HOW WAR OPENS UP DIMENSIONS, FOR THE PSYCHE TO INHABIT,  FOR SCHIZOPHRENIA TO FLOURISH, ENGINEROOMS, VALVELANDS, CRACKING OPEN, CONTINENTAL SHELF, DEEP STRATA OF OCEAN, DEEP STRATA OF SKY, IONOSPHERE, THERMOSPHERE, HYDRANT-BLITZ STREETSCAPE, WAR-RIPPED, CARCERA, 

Chimeric, boom boom boom, pullulations of shardlight, broken mortar, thistle, 

Tavistock clinic, R.D. Laing, Jung, stroboscopic sprint thru the pulsing Indies, mrazek-patois (as the train pulled out of the station, Berlage pulled his window up: “the aspects are fleeting . . . cinematographic . . . palm groves, kampongs, bridges, green sawah rice fields . . . blue and hazy horizon . .

Thames is a signal… a current… out, lapping into dover… 

Chopping wood, drawing water, writing, sleeping, hiking…fog winds… telegrams, phonecalls, requests, mail… California Zephyr train…watching America roll by… up the Hudson Valley, over New York State to Chicago, then the Plains, the mountains, the desert, the mountains of California…. Ayahuasca, Mescaline, Peyote…neon hiway…. Monterey…2am… Raton Canyon in the dark./… headlights… sea roar… glades, ferns, logs, mosses, humid mists… trees, fog pouring… blue sea behind the crashing high waves… huge black rocks rising… automobile crashed thru the bridge 1000 feet straight down….

mountains… 

caves… crashing dark… owls hoohooing… the glow of the woodstove and kerosene lamp… vestal lighting of the kerosene lamp…