Visceralum artwork: "Q-fight (Theme for Shoe-shark Toodaloo)" [2016]

intubated [2010]

white noise combatants

wrestling with sleeping

slapping at tendrilous

     flailing flesh alive

contriving dying

scrapping animal division

     along arteries

clocks shackled to them

arms wrapped in arms

tangling penitence     strapped

     into shameful smiles     cracked

eyes screaming 

     swollen     begging

hearts enmeshed and torpid

awaiting incision

clot teetering in crotch

 

and reproaching God 

     ugly     aching

spilling down septic halls 

smoking delirious     the stink

through gray tubes

affixed to throat after throat after throat

a droning dirge resounds

gallery [1994]

you're back on canvas

and so is my

it's no inscrutable painting

a thousand strokes couldn't save the scene

yet I move the brush as if to mean

there is something here for saving

a day

a long, tedious, injured day

drags by

rotting awareness and acumen

and as you walk me through

and talk me through

I realize I can't possibly consider it

as well as you

a painting is nothing but paint

a sculpture is nothing but clay

if you would swallow an ounce of this art

you'd choke as you tried to explain

your definition is merely supposition

over lunch

and under duress

so step back from the easel

stop trying so hard

there is no inscrutable painting

any stroke is a waste of time

this brush is but a tool of mime

and your empathy is fading

(she stood silent and frightened in her mask confusion

holding her guts, dreading the inevitable evaluation)

it is a refined and friable art

a tear-polished, facile figure

I've scrutinized this work in your gallery

         and found no reason to love her

refrain [2010]

I've blood just pooled there

     he said

     from the undone length

     of his hospice bed

and this is it

something more than a self-portrait (for E. L. M.) [2009]

by allowing myself to myself again

I've swapped surgery for strength

tossed language onto the break

cracked clouds from the firmament

and solicited smiles

I've heard the small sounds

brought a lifetime of doubt down

untangled wires and friendships

and founded a family

I've negated popular opinion

drafted nine manifestos

pioneered four ways to walk straight

and wandered warm into icy nights

I've rewritten pages

lifted the wrinkles from tired eyes

given precious animals time

and cast a spell upon the staircase

I've driven to the end of the counting

leapt confidently from unease

drifted into a masterpiece

and performed with the passed

by allowing myself to myself again

           I've discovered someone new:

           Team Boo

Visceralum artwork: "Elegy for an Archaeologist of Morning" [2013]

The Woman in the Wilderness Study is a prelude to dying [2012]

          You do not find nearly so many "people" wandering around remote corners of the planet anymore.  Some "people" even go as far as to think that wilderness is a lock-up of the land.  (This is a blunt, obstreperous fact, and "they" continue to dance around it to this day.)  But "people", stunted for a plenitude of centuries, have been calling animated things that "they" do not understand "woman", giving "them" a singular pillar of fire with which to light "their" lonely ways.  (Some have indicated that, as a side-effect, there is also an irrational acknowledgment of the funeral thank-you-notes page.  This is debatable, and the subject of a whole 'nother study, altogether!)  So, after years of social engineering crap that will never delete the truth, most "people" now care more about winning "woman" than they do the truth.  Wilderness!  However, the mere presence or activity of "people" does not disqualify an area of "woman" from being wilderness.  As this is indubitably true, the Woman in the Wilderness Study is about to make the startling transformation into the Woman in the Wilderness EVENT:  a funeral.

          Every particular here alluded to is observed on funereal occasions at the present day, and the "woman" in the wilderness is no exception.  So we come to this learned text assured that there is familial comfort (check the bathroom for closet alcoholics), and we have achieved the understanding that the call has been placed for the waling WOMEN to come; only the most skillful of them.  (These WOMEN leave their homes without full black attire and weeping veils for the first full year following employment, and, in the wording of the eleventh stanza of our first edition, are "slightly on the edge of plastic".  This is to be expected.)  The masculine "male" doctor is the counterbalance in the equation, and a bit of local culture must come with "him" (this could mean a multitude of things, but most likely it will simply manifest as a generous helping of pasta).  And when you reduce the story down to its bare essentials, it comes to two factors:  said "male" doctor and WOMEN.  Whine will become wine, and in all the vineyards there shall be glorious wailing, for the twelve-year-old "daughter" who was dying has died.  (On the outside, these turns in the text may seem ruthless, but they will teach us that Eternity is the Standing Still of the Present Time, and that the WOMEN certainly have no ruth.)  After all this, one might ask:  where is the wilderness, now?

          The setting becomes a grand estate on the edge of the water, and the wilderness of "woman" is encroaching.  (Inessential insanities such as these may get one in trouble with one's self.)  "They" usually eat plain food and not a lot of color, but occasionally, "their" LATEX will have to be run twice in a row to clear up the problem.  (See: "slightly on the edge of plastic".)  Several versions of this scene depict a pensive "man" sitting seaside, as if "he" knew the horror of aging and decay and "woman".  And some things may be thrilling precisely because we know what's going to happen:  avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose.  (Losing eluded "woman" then, but that's no matter.  Sound ethical decisions involve weighing a potential, and they have a very distinctive sound that should be easily identifiable:  a guttural, roaring yawp.)  The proceedings are "pleasure" engaging "herself" in an upright seated position, and "she" sits just above the keyboard and acts like the masculine "male" doctor.  Real riding is a lot like ballroom dancing and maybe figure skating in pairs.  Regardless, the "union" forms a genetic mutation:  the funeral.

  

          To recap:  "woman" is not WOMEN and wilderness is something else, also.  The Wilderness Study clogs up your time with inessential nonsense.  Studying is not creating something new using a certain amount of creativity.  A profundity has JUST BEEN revealed*:

 
                         Though I feel the proceedings would have benefitted from a 

soundtrack, the gathered audience actually seemed to 

appreciate the many awkward silences.  Several people 

exchanged phone numbers and e-mail addresses during one 

lengthy pause, and a large man in the back of the chapel even 

went as far as to crack a joke while the priest fumbled with 

the sacrament.  I think [removed] would have enjoyed many 

of the comical aspects of the funeral service, but I'm fairly 

certain [removed] would have been just as frightened as the
                         family was when the men responsible for bringing the 

casket to the altar dropped it when halfway down the aisle.  

(Apparently, one of the pallbearers freaked-out at the last 

minute, leaving only five to carry the heavy load.)  However, 

the accident was quite quickly accounted for, and it only took 

them a couple of minutes to get [removed] back into the box.  

After the ceremony, there was a lovely meal served in the 

church cafeteria.

[*There are many things we do not yet know.**]

[**The rest are just made up.]

1/2 hour to kill before class [2010]

drop-off THE TEAR JAR

(this morning's waiting is warm

and my cheeks are red with it

as learning begins to regurgitate)

                                                                    slide [s-l-i-d-e]

the legs of this

  meet the tile at

something other than

90 degrees

  and attractive is alight

upon them

under an abundance of it

nothing is more than two dance steps

shuffling through paper

and people

can cause an     imbalance

                                                                    if seen through

a frosted pane of glass

←from the other side of this

something else

is being said

when talking

isn't

"...wait for your talking outside, with a jacket and umbrella...or threats will be made...

...of you..."

(this sequence links to another which is you waiting)

strain [2010]

peace

the experience

inspiration is realized

from the staff arises a complex

a neurosis is rendered of the process

a song black with urge is spun ravenous

the listening apart from the twitch constitutes a hazard

any embryonic melody is ill-expressed in an atonal language

beyond the anguish of the instrument is found only an absurd anechoic chasm

(my

education

is

too

lean

and 

frail

to

support

this 

teetering

strain)

Tin Requiem [2016]

I am [2008]

I am

I am a tree of many wide rings and long, forlorn branches

I am the lighthouse on a small, intricately fortified island

I am the precious tone blown from an obsolete instrument

G.

G[ ]MM -- "Etude #014 (grew up in Spanish Lake, but moved away in the mid-'90s)" [2016]

my culture-selves and another [2011]

[some are afraid of the journey      and the room

(I'm scaring them now)

I am shaking the "road" for bones and ashes]

I'm up against my culture-selves again

it's hard to distinguish calm black from night

disobedience plays like I refrain

bagatelle language is a written fright

[some move quickly into the rust     in orange jumpsuits

(I'm arresting them now)

I am splitting the "eye" with a pick axe]

society against a stilted light

an answer I concocted isn't plain

the words are so arranged to convey spite

this poetry is a pulled-taut terrain

[some have found their ways out     through windows and air ducts

(I'm escaping them now)

I am taping the "hand" to the lever]

a "what" is difficult I ascertain

the music is castrated and polite

song features “I” reduced to the mundane

a pontificating eyeball is sight

[some remain unidentified     even mythical

(I'm telling their tales now)

I am holding "X" to my breast]

my conflict will be read like I rewrite

disobedience runs like I refrain

I choke-crafted loneliness to my right

I've defeated my culture-selves again

(a third party introduced them to their chosen fetishes)

scattered [2010]

a sea hungry with years
                                     knows the presence of the windstorm     

now rising here

it is a parting righteous swell

an account     (waves…)

like a communication of summits

summarized under spray

and pitched deep     a disintegrating memory

the mind places local things

where the water is nearly silenced

so that they will not crash

against the length of the dock

                                     "I have breathed alive the breakers

but 
                                     been devoured by the squall"

On (u)Tube: A Poem About C(u)riosity [2015]

constant [2010]

two questions

dressed as women

...together with (a mystery poet) who

had the mushrooms prepared

for     a musician twiddling knobs and/or oiling pans...

a sound to ponder     certainly

but they are both foreign languages

so an interpreter has been dialed-up

for dinner     dessert     and coffee

"(this room is located in the hallway off the cafeteria that runs behind the gift shop) (when you enter the hallway from the cafeteria side     it would be the 2nd door on your right)    (you have to knock on it because it will be locked     but the trainer will be in the room already)"

.

.

 .

a

l

e

a

k

.

.

.

PowerPoint: one might have offered different statistics

on the severity of childhood obesity

if they hadn't both been eating at the time

one might then have gone running

down the hallway with her sandwich

a short distance to find the trainer

...smiling as if he were     once again

back at Black Mountain...

while two individual individuals

with absurd questions of their own

made awkward ways for one another

across the parking lot at dawn

...after we returned from town

he resumed the lecture...

let me be the one

to reveal this     now

AN INTERPRETED VISION!

(home)

the sidewalk

the heat

the questions

the stairs

the packages

the purse

the barking dogs

the barking dogs

the husband

"pack-mule is

absolutely

second nature

to me"

he says "things"

the difference being

when comparing the two

that one reveals an answer

...David Tudor…

VISCERALUM: A Book of Three Volumes in Excerpt [2012]

Volume One:  “Tongue Tunnel” [(space)]

https://soundcloud.com/gmatthewmapes/tongue-tunnel

…3grÆfuxvx~yãà§iüÕ‡BUT“¿rÍ÷Û˜’Ú"%E-w¥+ Û4!;5/)$]V!∏õ&IN29gnÉÿT´^¸LM[_te[TéoÀ]À,!^j[l˘ ÖSCIENCEç''É\ùv›“#ª>0˙˙¬∏ŸŒ´““»AND´∞Éåp¡•≠ﶅq»ø≥ó˙„«∂´¶˛ART®ù≠≈fi¥≤ÜËÕ˛1ˆª†ONE†õñùÀ–˘Ï˚Àè($ˇ2r`b}dÄwip|çP9jv4?Å0YMöç’3~MUST∆‰ÉÂñ˝Ú§6üÒ‚õ¸PLAY5c√¶8æL±BY($yπDDwG∞≠¯Mõä3‡∆»Õ«ÉêÒ9pºqX±ºp“nbTáòÖ:‚©THE¯ıtq≤å˛¢õïB?#

PÊæt/˘RULES‡ÄhäÑ#9◊Ë‹‹Ø‡|ãã#X≈AS~E¯I<Câ∂Ê∫≤ÌË◊˙ú"y¨⁄˜„0Ò‹?›«√ûûí∞ÁÙ/—槔°ºôΩ4:&

≥fl√THEYnh˙œ÷\]ı˙Ÿçç´‘flË9tÊüÙÛ€fi˝Ô,#M@̉¸·Ùflº”⁄Ú.í

EtaìvùNpA_J-ñÉ`CURRENTLY%pcTf2XjöAvAåwx@≠cMöπjflÓ

¨™ÅLßxu.ñ√‘^ÕèO¶¥≠ÑâáãdîF9CuÄÅŒj&ò…˙µ)˜Z˜Û€Î∆Õ„˚STAND◊È·Òøùƒ»™“¡o√oyéú\ogexúèüǧÎuSˆ¶äë»çπxBdjBQeTaZõJSGLGj£œyß.™Y˙…

     tongues          in    the       pockets  of teen      elves

and              

                                                                ages     hovering

            to          be           spat

into          constellations

.£∫I≤sY@Gïmmé©òal~§çÆxêŸø…∞°ÜxÜèãÜ•πCOULD¥ÔVˆÎ}«BflòèÜ∫fi$˝fli¡∑‰å嬓‹PLAN“fn•∫üìπù(tmèk}ékÆËÀΩ¬¥Ê˜

"’Œ}´¨–Á¡CéfMF∆ÍûâN—˘Ú?'öõ‡THEˇfl/‚‡Ÿ’¡é§≈ø≥‰ÖYÅrœÿ ŒÄró“π§BOOKˇæ£òúÒ–WITHOUT‹Ô˚ä–æ÷Ï¥¯õ©áÀÆ

BÊÛ¥»A©fi»fiœΩƒü»ø‚‘„

ÿo∫πëgMÒFWI:<BEGINNING$K^F?TE∫›]˚YIR#8`aS-è¯zc6“ø„c,R’[EjÅp¡ØPãÌ’Ã:ÇU´úÎÇ,∫W\¿

≈∫uDÈNHÌùw«üÅ><qûhé°OR∆Æ:±`kÑ>Éi7=Œ<¬@ı˝;ÕËŒµÕËÁk¢˚»3≈9èª∆Ò“◊Ø’˙·⁄END‡‹¸9∂1ˆ$¬ˇËíy≤≈⁄–πŒΩ¬Û≈ÿ÷Ì–ŸÊ∏–… 

Volume Two:  “Pinhole Gulls” [(object)]

https://soundcloud.com/gmatthewmapes/pinhole-gulls

…Ó#-&‘?}Ës≈THERE•6T≤#*v|∫‡fl—ı∑ÎUUãQOAs¶≈;íÌ©‚ã•T$‡IS[Ù≠Ü2d–Óˇ>æq∏B

Ä°NOT‚x},B·ªIê√Ç>Hu≠Lèff

≥ÅÁ

c‚0;kaÀQ¶AND"ó#>,∫[—»^X®WILL=QÇåX1¡X·s‡êñ±ˆÖXǶOıflñXò.2†ı?NOT√Ìsp-bRñ%À(À´Ü¡"_l† "ŒºûØ“;∑’˜TNuWì&BEø¶ú∫Ù›Z

R%ˆÖ´NEW{ôU∞P‰SXc…ˆLITERATURE∞jEgíôÁ7‚|O‘aûTLö∏èÂ>Ä<·’’j˜öà∏¨%ANY∑CÉ¿a|è;≈ÎÊÊ£2U3\OY‚Â√¬.b0˘ø2t§Lå5f±X(_MORE/°ŒkÖT÷Q¿!LÔ∑ô^/Ür›.F∞¿Ï0+… 

thrusting barbed wire into loopward pinholes

isn’t aging     or a matter of destitution

-  -  -  -  - 

we were glass and silence broken

over the head of the ship’s captain 
…√"Ä»Ï2&ú¯ç(ÌLANGUAGEØ)r\›√.3j≠W¿I®◊»û˚ç∫O@Ö≠ıènLN›·
»ÿÓBßØf7m8‹wlYâb/d¬™ñTRANSMITS>r®·¶

r˚2!.3SQb≤‘=µP4fßT:sY32ŸÆA≈?›IDEAS¶˜µ?’π

A‰ÉÈi¢£,¿änéäGÃEß¡¸äƒÅU∑!‡ô≈'qflS7džI.E.π«D\ΩJù#∆œ‘«9áãÚ·  ¸á∆^(‡flB¥Xn*“ÏX?KqRüLm©§f≥gö¯§ıâSp<bûõ'âg$MENTAL/áô∏n≈≤¯’1`≠ÕòDÃL2FTº!ôàZ„°IMAGES#ix¨¸#NÉHéîâ·DƒX„*.ˇ+fi5’®Y‰R±O%r¬pÑÃsªüÁìq,Ó¶è|T≈™(Äïæ%l=ÔµCã≈E:ãKzˇw÷l88©∞Öp”¶•(`@t∏

ߪ›ã¿‹RÛÌˇ:P3îwé#zé*qS@

(k3 ≤JàX » JM

†ƒÍ}ˇ„WÎê&ñºéfl Íy9i ∫ù€ˇc>ÈY»…

Volume Three:  “Outback (for Alan Lamb)” [(sound)]

https://soundcloud.com/gmatthewmapes/outback-for-alan-lamb

…D ∞SO†L8cBˆÆ›p6ò—◊©THE∆<uæªfiôT≈©

y SìN@SOUNDS–eÓ∑∫à’mÕZ¨V‹î∆THAT∑+K™X∆í§+m{x,`T§/äflÒó8™j‰MAKEˆæñL¢Îe‹NIGHT PASSAGE&Âä1äô96WILL‰µ5

»ë6yoh¢‹—.Ñ8ÇMe·NOT¯zf§∫|Y%«Æ©≈/@BE!éªß-tŸ&8ÿ~„Ω»ôSlõÂòíKå\ŸÃS3öÓU≤HEARD˙5Öv<bïû∫m̶AGAINΩˆ Ä◊x¶,OëóYw4’-™÷riä|-∑`^NOT*á=I0†¢

ItÍTt 1fi°QçLIVE€{UÊ|‹ö¿ÑhÚ,H"Lômæ©FOR¡E¬)¨A–Ó lY4-n≤EACH¥2Å!(.af$7À¿˘m&hµà≥N6

üWIND+Õs94#∫¡ ·—K-¨!~Ù‘ÑBû 5

È£ORGAN∂Û5i.ÓïÜ6ã+Í£wq_<ü„M≈’YUıNA^ÍVópc›>ˆv+v{Åœ,5w .IS‡!OÔˆ>˘~bœKèS∂

Ω]H∑â 6Ö7óúfi,N[¡SJ˝UNIQUE3,®.{…

brea    thing     

lan         guage     o                 pens                                             in    to

the sligh            test

                                     voice

…´£âh∆í≥è]µ‡°'©2v-œnÛ?Á€Ω>ì•üº„∏ˇóùÌˇ!æ›`l˝' •5˛ØNOTHING©Òûv”]‚*Ïóo«3≈¿«°6w„∞ÒWìøœ¥£ZKKUVflT©çCAN◊@–fi'ùΩ¢°+\‘îu8˛:éèvȬlù‹[ëB8EVER∞HBé=⁄]

•ùREPLACE™·]ù2∑"A1‚%ûºÍå)‚‰Ö$óć™óân/≤Î.‚Ö¥éíH$∫ÙÓO7THE∫πáEã´•ÜN*ªxÙˆD¯°±ã*ÓgŸ·µ»® Á€¶–%N$FARAWAY ORGAN#BP£“k¶S∂躋nAR˙.€j8Òú˝c€yìb5æ ™÷«ÿfÏÂfi√µë¨ïVÓ(» fljŸl¯¨•€Mfi∑ÜÊîkà[—,éˇÏ?¶˘í.qÄi(îK Ükq

Ã∏mrâï∆fÍvR‚4Å∑(ºE4ÅßDÃyú`êŒ≈[Db”((∏ÓC°J•—ÏÙ5OFîÈÙ'éñôêJÄ%_üëkπ"ßBÑ•RódZÅâ($¬cj∫\ÒÖ≠<ı¶Å†w∂

UbeÑ»ÄP&”˘`!Oˇwg˜zbÈCÖ–a¢Ìㆂw/zƒ¬<d&qæ+ºÿ!úÀ©

É]fÈîÁów,∫ËWWyWeÆflFYKMdèf·àí2)ªD…