Punk and the Autonomous Individual
Does punk evolve?
Continual reiteration
of an oppositional stance
is facile and nihil,
swinging left and then always
to the right, depending
on our (mostly) white
minds, which we absurdly feel
to be autonomously our own
Should punk evolve?
Continental reverberations
open positions extant
as fossil, or isle,
sing wings aloft in the alleyway
of the rite descending—
dissonant response, like you is
a dead end, and could even
really be individual
in a sound sense
Evolution 1
This is going to be
how the mirror reflects
the lens refracts
the moon reflects
the sun meet
at the point between the eyebrows
and the light revolves
into the center
of the passage-tomb
of the head
descends
through the empty terrain
of the below
to the cauldron
steady simmering
on low heat
water under the grate
melts into steam
rising
into
a keening
noise
//
the Revolution of the I:
is evolution,
the I transmuted,
refined
in the iron
cauldron
Evolution (single version)
so that it is the self
but also expression
of void-dark pervasion
images are real
but also images may be refracted,
and who will speak them
Department/
an affiliated amalgamation
of people cohered
around a purpose
possibly in a location
that is not always a building
Feral Forest/
both real and not-real
it is the potential
of a forest to (re)grow
when left alone
and the mind
to revert to its tree-nature
when out from under
oppression
in the single version
there was an extra verse
that sang the question:
should there be leader/s,
a central figure,
a Boudica
albeit the lens refracts?
an echo among the oaks
Evolution 9
is it going to be alright?
flesh in waves of magnetic tape
shifting pink flashes out in the wind
animal cells pervaded by the real
strangely shimmering silent
darkness
at evolved frequencies
“mere mysticism”
real working mass
panem et Circen
embodied
glas-dark experience
into version 9
an economic boycott
is not a marketing opportunity
a city block aloaf
in ancient neon
is a field in the totality
chamber things
not standing still
number nine when
newly vatic
I played a CD
in the portal-tomb
the unexpected chord change
recorded on
[void]
a central
movement
melts not
INCIPIT
all those little spaces
among the oaks