Fish In the Afternoon

“Invention, it must be humbly admitted, does not consist in creating out of void, but out of chaos.”

Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

Being or becoming animal; having-been, to-be, growling out feral subjectivity. I am an organism, walking-grasping, shaking boots into lizard echoes of desert ferocity. Awoo! Howl down the hallows, human glares menacing from the lightpost – cop walk, pig badge, animal control. Tzzt zap, electric baton, psychiatric wristbands wrap parched over beastflesh.

Alalia (tsk tsk) against-this, creature-then. To-groan (roar) gasp-ecstatic. Elder trees say hello to comrade salamander, bark-voices barking voiceless, shout shout howl into green-tint starlight. Shhh the northlight sleeps.

We crawl (we gallop) over gravel into open fields, tongue-melody in moonlight. We fuck cosmogonies, ohing fingerwork into possibilia. Propel, timeless, the spiral of creation. Hairy palms trace animism into non-spoken thought (who-who who-who). Rocks chatter mystery to the air.

A creature ahs, awe the sublime. Mountains over mountains, peeking over peaks. Ghosts speak sharply the formless one. (hhh)

A claw right into Parmenides, the poet transforms. Lycanthropy in memetic motion. From words on into not, a gapless gap. The nothing everythings.

Animal.

“I am not nothing in the sense of emptiness, but I am the creative nothing, the nothing out of which I myself as creator create everything.”

Max Stirner, The Ego and Its Own

Image: Clown, Horse, Salamandra, Amadeo de Souza-Cardoso (1912)