Exercice the Hyperdekorativismus Mind, Body and Heart

laugh walk vanguard

photo painting laugh walk vanguard poingue

Do sing their slowing peripatetic rhythm
as they gathered at the lunch table,
and the ensuing tilting sound of cutlery,
people silently shewing, swallowing and spitting;
and please sing the birth of her desire, later on.
And when that is done,
do sing their senses drifting into zero sharpness,
the weightlessness of their floating bodies, no stiffness,
and the sight of his shoulders leading her back upstairs.
And sing the tangentially prude smile she disguised over him –
'cause nature sings and laughs aloud but silence was to be kept.
And then,
that remembrance of the bluest morning hour,
now gone,
do sing that it opened her heart to his knowledge of all directions:
sing the surprising engine sound reverberating from inside of him,
a purring, soft turning fast-sensible sound, caught-heard outside:
vromm... purrr... vroomm... purrrrr... prrrrrummmmm...,
and sing how it geared him everywhere by a network of invisible toothed chains,
conveyors and straps!
Do sing how it geared him to her, too,
and to everyone else.
And sing what a trouble-free cruise-ship he had been thus steer-wheeling – smoothly!

Do furthermore sing she knew half-half equals zero-nothing,
and that she understood it horizontally: no irony, no reservations, no demanding eagerness.
Vroooommmmmm... prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr... pruuuummmmm… Engage! Connect!
And do sing of they entering a room full of people,
a fringe-like trimming of beds over both walls,
and twenty-odd bodies laying there, barely awaken.
Sing their communion in the resting yellowish hour:
dwelling in the hour of disillusion, of renewed tiredness.
Sing of spoken language entirely, continuously withdrawn,
and of the misty atmosphere of silence invading the room –
wavily vague, abstract, clouding intangible displacements.
Call it boredom turned dynamic! Say it floated high!
Or call it silence reigning over foggy openness:
transparent (un)reality on the verge of concretion. 'Cause vertically –

the words Everything that is waves on Air! Therein lays all existent things!... placed like in a wave
drawing laugh walk vanguard poingue

Do sing the dispensers of low expectancy and inner bore,
how they yawned of tiredness;
and sing their placid eyes almost opium-like melting,
how they still threw arrowing perspectives across the room
and thus birthed a multi-layered gaze, crisscrossed and overlapped in the Air.
Sing that intersecting planes wherein silence erected itself –
mirror-catcher of all selves! –
ghosts past, ghosts present, and ghosts future.
And do most of all sing this boredom-maze coalescing, and thereby becoming...
'cause what a crystal-like composition of vanishing being-I cathedrals thus appeared!
What dangerous ensuing traverses insinuated therein!

Sing that, before the crystal, intelligence became a cancer.
It didn't matter if the sound before language was an old roaring scream,
or if it was a gale of heat mounting through, bursting veins and skin.
It didn't matter, even, if it was only a tenuous spasm,
mute-wondering as a ring found over the washbasin of a street-corner cafe.
What mattered was the late afternoon sun.
Sing it!
Sing it's flares piercing the windows on the exterior wall of the room
and the sudden-brightening of the crystal,
where, upon many others, the image of a greenish fleeting laugh,
whilst there, silently raised this exact question:
don’t you know, you fool, we live so little that we always stop halfway to desire?*

* This exercise freely quotes Almada Negreiros, Álvaro de Campos and M. de Sá-Carneiro.