THE FIRE SERMON

THE FIRE SERMON

THE FIRE SERMON

Mediators! matadors!
                                  how trivial and objective this world is!
                                                                                             semiologists! stevedores!
how objective and trivial! 
                                       equally fucked we are
                                                                          well not equally I have an MCM
aesthetic and a radio-controlled
                                                  death drive there are two parties
                                                                                                      to every romance
the waged and the wager
                                        and it has been getting harder
                                                                                        to decipher the difference
a throw of the dice will  
                                    never reveal the real subject
                                                                                 oh mediators! stevedores! etc.

 
Madrid is sometimes in flames
                                                 though confusingly the Spanish
                                                                                                   Stairs are in Rome
which is often in flames
                                     Oakland is sometimes pleasingly in flames
                                                                                                         Athens is almost
always aflame also Thessaloniki
                                                    Big Data murmurs to me
                                                                                            the likelihood that at a given
profit rate in a given sector
                                           a given household debt
                                                                                 a given wage deflation a given
neighborhood would be
                                     in flames given fire is the unfettered
                                                                                              substance of the situation

 
To begin again from the beginning
                                                      to write only for one’s friends
                                                                                                    two lovers make a zero
two speculations make a hedge
                                                   if Tender Buttons had been
                                                                                              written by capital instead of
OBJECTS FOOD ROOMS
                                          it would have a single section
                                                                                        called LABOR POWER
though technical language is not conducive
                                                                     to enlisting popular support
                                                                                                                if Lunch Poems
were the poetry of the future
                                             it would be all like
                                                                         I communize this I communize that



 

2. Transistor

for Ruth Jennison
 

There will be a revolution or there will not. If the latter these poems were nothing
but entertainments. If the former it will succeed or fail. If the latter these poems
were better than nothing. If the former it will feature riots fire and looting and these
will spread or they will not. If the latter these poems were curiosities. If the former it
will feature further riots manifestos barricades and slogans and these will leap into
popular songs or they will not. If the latter that’s that. If the former these popular
songs will be overcome or they will not. If the latter these poems were no different
than the songs. If the former the popular itself will be abolished via riots barricades
manifestos occupations and fire or it will not. If the latter we will spend several
more decades talking about culture. If the former the revolution will at this point be
destroyed from within or without. If the latter these poems went down fighting. If
the former it will feature awful confrontations with former friends and there will be
further manifestoes new slogans ongoing occupations and communes and lovers
will be enemies. We do not know what will happen after this point but surely this is
enough to draw some preliminary conclusions. The poem must be on the side of
riots looting barricades occupations manifestos communes slogans fire and enemies.





3. Poem Ending With a Line from Niedecker
 

I keep my mind under my arm
                                                where I hold my
                                                                          head when I walk
down to market when I 
                                     walk when I walk down
                                                                          to the market
the actions are social
                                  but the mind is private
                                                                      when I walk down walk
down to the inferno
                               the mind is private I had
                                                                      a vision the mind
is privately held
                         under my arm when I
                                                           walk I had a dream had a
Baudelaire had a
                           Rimbaud the action is
                                                              social but Apollinaire walks
down he promenades down
                                            to market promenades
                                                                                in the market
walks out walks home
                                   walks through streets named after
                                                                                         market towns
the names are social
                                 but the century is private
                                                                        the inferno is social
but the mind follows
                                the head thinks we can leave
                                                                               thinks we can go
down to the market  
                               and leave just leave thinks we can
                                                                                      be in it but not of it

You know all too well 
                                 that the best poetry is not
                                                                          the least revolution
you know also that poetry 
                                         is the best way available to you
                                                                                            to affirm this truth
now we start to see how
                                       the trap is sprung how it was
                                                                                     sprung and all
before you were born
                                  mind under your arm
                                                                    in the poetry market that exists
despite the spontaneous
                                        wailings of the poets who believe
                                                                                             there must be no
market because they
                                  cannot afford that for which they
                                                                                     should not have to pay
the action is social but the market
                                                      exists as the secret
                                                                                      police exist alas the market
will never send you
                               to jail for your poems though
                                                                             we all believed in
private that we were
                                 worth jailing for the terrible
                                                                            sedition of our dithyrambs
believed we deserved this honor 
                                                    in a ¡NO PASASRÁN!
                                                                                       todos somos Pussy Riot
sort of way yet the good
                                      reader geared with cuffs and
                                                                                    taser cometh not for us

The world of the poem is
                                        the world the world is abstract
                                                                                        and real the poem
fails just when it is victorious
                                             because one cannot live
                                                                                    the absolute of Victory
over the Sun until
                            one can and we do and many
                                                                            will die when this happens
poetry will be renewed
                                    in the blood of the negative
                                                                               “and dreadfully much else”