Marty Hiatt



tableau mort-vivant

this is a pre-recorded message.
from back when i used to jot things down.
as such, it steals a march on history
but only as a substitute, a knock-off.
im dead but thats ok, im open
to change, unlike the spent tramp lying
next to me as i scribe. capital gave me a self
but i smashed it on the ground in a tantrum
, groo the wanderer said.
now it is time for some media.
it is there. i am certain of it. the monster never lie
although this is a little known fact.

lets make it that you are a sub
marine bounding along over the bare
hills of tarcutta. i know you dont exist, but
i, malingering myrmidon, hemmed in by the implacable
barrel of this satellites lens, have become a copy
writer. no dolls no mantras. im so transformed!
unlike the spent tramp lying next to me as i scribe
now i just give ppl. wot they want: insecurity, megalomania,
scapegoating. dump into blender, blend, pour
over ice n serve w/ wedge of lime. my hostility to some is
yet lauded by others. whip out wallet of attributes
n check in on the basic elements of the fun,da,mental, particles.
is that a bomb just there? the effect is that of the human
machine going faster n faster until it stops.
how surreptitious the apocalypse!
,me,an,while i even think of him as a real person,
with a moustache n golden teeth.
a concert hall, an international airport,
n many luxury hotels were built in record time,
innumerable taxis were acquired in anticipation.
in bringing his case he was recorded as saying
he was making “national decisions” n “saving the nation”
unlike the spent tramp lying next to me as i scribe
n now hes in love w/ this dutch psychometrician woman
“his songs of disbelief will fill our hearts”

at length we stepped out into the vacuum
n took up prosthetic arms against the old organic metaphor,
from then on sure to be wholly alone.

im gp

how the swatches splay
just briefly
how coal fills time
let go legs
just briefly
go into the arc of it
you and the no you have
nose first into vortex spice
spikenard fest
.program.
whos there
the memorial on fire, presenting,
my dream the doubling of fuel prices
im spoking to you
you ore
you wad
the ray you claim to be
ray of shadow
ray of dark
how did gig
put up with this
so long
by spouting concrete
over gnarled ent-poets
jork it borgbone
gif the poashing blits out of it
gosh me one time
why dont you
embrace the agency
you and the no you have
mayke it pay
useless service
plastic value
“whatever wedges of any sort
may be driven into consciousness”
let go arms
just briefly
merge back into company
embrace corruption
embrace the walking radio
why dont you
it is never surely
more than nothing
is its movement
vain agitation
whos there
im a developer
razing hoary oaks
and spraying the waste with concrete
before't can rot
organs on the breeze
the program on fire
a memorial to ore
doubling of fuel prices you are
how the swatches turned
back into the company
back into the ray
put up with this
just briefly
fill out time
the arc of it
with the agency
and vain agitation
aboard the nothing
mayke it pay
ray of dark you are
driven into shadow
presenting your claim
to the useless value
clambering for halters
with tautologys torch
nose first into concrete
im spoking to you
.program.
factories of HILARITAS
spouting coal fire
driven into consciousness
a plastic movement
no more than nothing
spattered with treacle
and spoking to you
look into me
i am your end
pressed into breath
and hurld at the empty coming




marty hiatt is a poet from melbourne. he puts out chapbooks through bulky news press.
 
 
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