| Difference |
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++THE FULL MOON'S UNFATHOMABLE light-path--mid-May midnight in some State that starts with "I," so two-dimensional it can scarcely be said to possess any geography at all--the beams so urgent & tangible you must draw the shades in order to think in words.++ |
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No question of ''writing to'' Wild Children. They think in |
images--prose is for them a code not yet fully digested & |
ossified, just as for us never fully trusted. |
You may write ''about'' them, so that others who have lost the |
silver chain may follow. Or write ''for'' them, making of |
STORY & EMBLEM a process of seduction into your own |
paleolithic memories, a barbaric enticement to liberty |
(chaos as CHAOS understands it). |
For this otherworld species or "third sex," |
''les enfants sauvages'', fancy & Imagination are still |
undifferentiated. Unbridled PLAY: at one & the same time the |
source of our Art & of all the race's rarest eros. |
To embrace disorder both as wellspring of style & voluptuous |
storehouse, a fundamental of our alien & occult |
civilization, our conspiratorial esthetic, our lunatic |
espionage--this is the action (let's face it) either of an |
artist of some sort, or of a ten- or thirteen-year-old. |
Children whose clarified senses betray them into a brilliant |
[[sorcery]] of beautiful pleasure reflect something feral & |
smutty in the nature of reality itself: natural ontological |
anarchists, angels of chaos--their gestures & body odors |
broadcast around them a jungle of presence, a forest of |
prescience complete with snakes, ninja weapons, turtles, |
futuristic shamanism, incredible mess, piss, ghosts, |
sunlight, jerking off, birds' nests & eggs--gleeful |
aggression against the groan-ups of those Lower Planes so |
powerless to englobe either destructive epiphanies or |
creation in the form of antics fragile but sharp enough to |
slice moonlight. |
And yet the denizens of these inferior jerkwater dimensions |
truly believe they control the destinies of Wild Children--& |
''down here'', such vicious beliefs actually sculpt most of |
the substance of happenstance. |
The only ones who actually wish to ''share'' the mischievous |
destiny of those savage runaways or minor guerillas rather |
than dictate it, the only ones who can understand that |
cherishing & unleashing are the ''same act''--these are mostly |
artists, anarchists, perverts, heretics, a band apart (as |
much from each other as from the world) or able to meet only |
as wild children might, locking gazes across a dinnertable |
while adults gibber from behind their masks. |
Too young for Harley choppers--flunk-outs, break-dancers, |
scarcely pubescent poets of flat lost railroad towns--a |
million sparks falling from the skyrockets of Rimbaud & |
Mowgli--slender terrorists whose gaudy bombs are compacted |
of polymorphous love & the precious shards of popular |
culture--punk gunslingers dreaming of piercing their ears, |
animist bicyclists gliding in the pewter dusk through |
Welfare streets of accidental flowers--out-of-season gypsy |
skinny-dippers, smiling sideways-glancing thieves of power- |
totems, small change & panther-bladed knives--we sense them |
everywhere--we publish this offer to trade the corruption of |
our own ''lux et gaudium'' for their perfect gentle filth. |
++So get this: our realization, our liberation depends on ''theirs''--not because we ape the Family, those "misers of love" who hold hostages for a banal future, nor the State which schools us all to sink beneath the event-horizon of a tedious "usefulness"--no--but because ''we & they'', the wild ones, are images of each other, linked & bordered by that silver chain which defines the pale of sensuality, transgression & vision.++ |
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--~~[http://www.hermetic.com/bey/taz1.html#labelChaosSection CHAOS: THE BROADSHEETS OF ONTOLOGICAL ANARCHISM]~~ |
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