Oasis 3

Barbara Mor

the small blue man  a small man tends the door,he wears a
blue jacket,all is glassy silence  bldgs &parkinglotEmpty,the
sun exists at some angle to the sky  the small blue man is
almost not there,he is Tokwah  who opens the door           
                                                  as many years,the
close world,vinous enclosed &moistured green film,earth
enwrapt in its sweat &thick creations,who is mouth,stink
&eating who is water(jaguar,Fire)  in a jungle of entropic
things he thinks he is many dreams  all sensate cells,all
skins explode,Omnivorous of desire
   elderly blue person,or
shrunk white man,all thats left, arthritic &hypnotic,at the
turnstyle inside the door(inside the plaza inside the
wonder)aGreeter,can barely stand or move yet humbly
mechanical for the job,the doors of automatic sliding
glass,of hisEyes,open beyond mortality  &theSilence
everywhere  that was aWorld   flesh floor,liveMezzanines
of air,anaconda flowers rain eyes lickt day&night w/
paradise,bodies consuming the display of bodies
rapturous or w/out commentary,except orange purple
yellow noise explosions in anOracular skull  he counts
fireants crocodiles bats millipedes piranhas,ecstatic
merchandise  heThinks bright red blood eyes as a bird
flies up this parrot screeching words &becomes a clever
man  there was aTree,ocean in aTree,Tokwah hooks
out a great flood & everything drowns,rivers pour out
his orificesPissing& preachingFever  his monkey tricks
penetrate himself,a slippery muscle poison always
lustful always hungry  &mens milk,intercourse w/
toads,a thorn in the squirmy anus extrudes secretion
abundantly,dipt w/petals on penis& theMind he makes
semen the invention of(adultery &murder)      
                              so that you remain dead,so  
that you are dead,he madeDeath,thisBrain glows in the
dark,binocular &cruel,scares away return ofGhosts
until theWorld closes,now they come

some say Tokwah is a little man   he thinks he is many
animals  in this desert jungle of fish,frutas,money &
circularTime(you will become)a blue glow pervasive as
mythic 1stThought,or not   a shrivelled old man,ancient   
One  guide to some Futuro suburbano    Bienvenidos           
al mercado de la Ultima Parada  
he does not speak  
                                              he has a tool to zap           
you to aVoid if you look crosseyed(& are not Mayan)
sometimes he wears dark glasses they are mirrors theEyes
are mirrors solely &there is no longer any need to smile      
he is Tokwah Lord of Death
welcome,enter & become the world


the world in fact is empty now,but this lucent space
retains all yr best features   laCiudad delDiosShopping
Mall,la galeria as plexigalaxy unspirals yr dizzy brain as   
stars,planets,landscapes, 3story fullfurnished houses
pinnacles domes iglesias kingly halls,Babylon walls&
(simulations),the illusion of having everything at
once in one place,&Affordable  boutiques,Banks tacobars
juicebars,theaters ampitheaters moats balconiesArches
over balconies,bridges Pyramids,enchanted tattoos,jewels
hair salons bra&pantie emporiums  egyptEngineers of
profiles& sacred echochambers inhabit these facades
foudroyant &fatal,yrDream as only life could be if
elaborately decorated   
                      atrium of light &air like light,a violet effusion
                 of floral escalators & those now risen,transported by
                   invisible wires or dispersed as from perfume
                    atomizers  the angelic realms,neoplastic realms
               spilling glassy rivulets&neonic fires  chalets of crystal&
                wood that move along invisible rails&pulleys
                         asSpirits recapitulate an old ambition to
                 move from shop to shop aisle to aisle thing to thing
                            unimpeded by humanity
          ascendent fromAmnesial bowers(shadowy)
               of sculpted ivy& stone flowers,the incorporeal
          adrift in luxury resembling nothing that is yrs
       no little monkeyturds or quetzal or pigeon flyovers,
          squalls,words,sweaty brains,hands seeking money
                 mortify pleasures of naturalHallucination,or
               criminal dogs howling in the mud streets
                 a violent air eviscerates w/spires of faux metallic  
                  fingers the atrium w/light plunged down into the
          pool,the food court the toilets &lounges&basement
                   ventilators,odors of any lifeforms dispersed long ago
                          into atmospheres of dryOblivion as
                     yr bodies into gaping graves (airconditioned)
                              as aMirror,the pool,Mayan azul(an
                  allusion)a strange city upsidedown in the dimWest,
               its emptiness anEye not yet open to the public,or
                       closed forever,as in bankruptcy ofMind,
                 lo!  2 figures(dead w/out tears)the melancholy waters
                   uphold them,bobbing,swimtubes &sodapopcans
                       &the collapse of apotheosis,just like the old days
               LosDos,elEdgar&elArthur   their dark sunglasses   
                      are mirrors w/smoke rising from them,slowly   
                 coiling as if anEternal cigarette (who invented that?)

               ah! you dont need to exist to enjoy this   

day,night the eternalClimate  nothing that breathes,or
tarnishes aSilence  something crawled here from Silurian
seas,started a business,a motel a scorpion church,altars
de la comida,sexo,Weekend relaxation  & only the people
fuck it up,so they are gone  no philosopher orShopper
looks minutely down or up in search of a raison d?etre,a
bargain,a chilidog(whateverIt was for) no,solamenteLos
Dos y sus companeros,Huginn&Muninn(black invisible
birds) laidback in wet azul,Art&Ed ,as pagan sadistic
recurrence circles the world,7Up orSplice in one hand w/
maybe those little pink umbrellas,or technicolor straws,&
sometimes the waves glow red &spin them around,el vahido  
del vacio,it makes them dizzy(in a fun way)  at poolside,
2 chaises longues(plastique!),2 terrycloth beachrobes(250
million years from an ocean),one lifeguard sign:     
     Art might find some viewers objectionable(Ed2)
nothing makes them happier than poquitoMariachi
music in their heads(nobody hears it)  &dos cuervos
fly over&over this uninhabitedSpace w/out even being

what a place!   
erupted magmas,volcanoTemples&mountains,dinosaurs
rumble around a lake in la caldera,1 million years(bigger
than a futbol stadium)then laAgua dries up,grassy land,a
car lot,mastodon tiger camel minihorses roll down the
boulevards,new&shiny   until this also dries up,Rust&
extinction,inside aSun that turns all juicy hearts toStone
        assorted cacti,lizards,rats y los espiritus retirados
live here now,Lifestyles de losMuertosGringos, una tren
de vida consumida   
                            the deserted world,very spacious,black
roads exude from the sacredMall complex into sacred
        alrededores,landscapes of rock,magnificent houses
    of glass&rock,glamorous suburbs of melted sand
                w/active birdwings &agave blades embedded,a
       primitive nature cultivated w/superbArt (thank you)  
1000 vago driveways,stript &white,1000 backyard pools,black  
       in the unobserved night,light fromSirius orVega orOrion
   reflects in their stagnant waters& eyes of coyotes who
         watch theSpirits gather around the dark barbecue,the
       lounge chairs &patio ramada,everything intact for
                        luxurious desert living   
     LosDos,here&there,appear (quantumly)lounged,empty in
          turquoise dream,for they do not swim except in this
               aqua,their disembodied brain,the blind one too thin to
 float &the thin,blind one has nowhere to go  it is enough
       to recline&wonder at the completeVacancy of el world,the
   unoccupied silence,abstract blue upon black&black of the
         unironic sky,night aereated by neon(glances of eyes
                  in thought)or not (closing of heavy lids onEternity,a     
     brief nap)  soArt&Ed on lawn chairs w/shotguns across
          pellucid laps,ready to shoot anyThing that lives(gringos
            behind every bush,allHorizons,a video hallucination)&/or
        they populate the pool w/companions,blownupdolls(blond
              o pelirrojo),pterodactilo &yellowDuckies    &when
    it comes to the Az/Mex Border,exactly what is a Hot Spot?  a
       CriminalHotSpot??   lawn chairs? lawn chairs???
            we aint got no stinking lawn chairs  theres no lawn!!!
        as gentlemen savages,i.e.LosDos,hunt their news by the
                          light they have invented

theAfterlife,all thats left,dreamt of theEternalWest  &
built in yr fear ofDeath(rightly so!)lost somewhere here
among Dos Cabezas ySuperstition,Catalina&Chukson,
themepark celebrity museum gatedCemetery whatever,a
sunkenMoon w/drunk gods sleeping offForever in hotels  
&motels of paradise no one has to change the sheets,&     
shopping mall of Toltec ruins w/ghosts going up&down
stone escalators   amid the life,moving of itself,of that
which is dead sd Hegel(how did he know?)        
                                   a planet abandoned,cities
housesEmpty of superfluous flesh,yr evacuate rooms
factories hospitals,sad highways &lunar highrise,wept
as deserts upward& alone,theSpirits come,retire,the   
dry air resembles them ,all winds all years all days  all
Straight lines,roads progress intoHeaven,like aCrashsite
in el cine teleologico     theVehicle theMind the Place
the house,the car in its house next to the house,the
epistemeWho failed to exist  as thisOtraVida would be
ruined by yr living body,skin floated,flaccid,florid,yr
loud dispersers of ancient blood flowing down stone
stairs &stone faces to its quietude
              theSpirits enjoy the same things (so many have
their hearts!) golfcourses,faux lakes &palmtrees
         sacrificial altars,boudoirs,kitchens  zoologicMenus
           ,spectacles ofAges of struggled matter into all that
      doesntMatter,beast after beast walking intoFire,tusks
                  feathers pelts fins hands fingers tongues
  devolve inFire,conflagrations ofSky,the pleasures of cloud
        &light,induced images that become theHours,the   
       pleasures of opening doors,sinking into swirling hot
    maelstroms,emergent from sulfuric oozes,lungfish swarms
          of flies &cocoons as furry bodies from the maternal
      ch(i)asm(u)s   the most tremendous failure of time  sd
                     WWhitman (how did he know?)

ixiptlas, those little makeshift things who represent a god
2 sticks tied together by spit a human hung on a horizon 2
bleeding sticks who cares,in the long run there have been
so many    LosDos the last men do not care what is
manufactured lasts longer than what lives
merely  so perfect you have to use drugs to endure it

there are reasons for the tall locked gates & stonefaced  
walls,theDying now only bones pile up against them as if
left from a tidal wave,or the postperson at xmas,pkgs from
some season,or the remains of a feast of dogs


on theMarket,these wondrous abodes  creators of worlds
may dwell in,as if(suggestions of Earth dwindling down
to a house)astride toilets englowd w/stainglassshowerdoors,
or fuckt bestride the bestThighs of beds&Dominion,persons
may be artists or gods,or gaze thruOblivion,feel so much
better aboutThemselves& speak words that relate them to
bodies &stars of sumptuous orbits around a flat rim,that
desert appearing again &again,in some whiteEye aimd
too long at theSun  you can watchRoads &sand &beasts
&Time dissolve into each others form,&billions squat in
their dust to die,as If(life dwindling down toEnd)

in the meantime you may enjoy  Delusions bigger,w/
more rooms 13+ annexes!for each occasion!w/fewer
occupants!uncluttered vistas! imagine yrself royalty to
wanderAristocraticallyRooms for entertainment&special
uses MediaRoom,GameBoxRoom,PoleDancingRoom,
issue)Glutrooms of variant items&Idols in order,genre
to species,faces2spaces,feel&reveal,a clear border in&
out between tools& moods,moods &ambience,Taste is
paramount when it no longerExists,i.e. aDeSadeRoom
always on opposite sides of familyrecroom from the
Disney/SpielbergAlcove,WarRoomwest &Chapeleast
&so forth easier to keep clean,walk-inMurderRoom for
example is on a diagonal wing from the KitchenRoom
&FuckGym but each has its own discrete scrub crew
(twice a week)(Guatemalan)(on alternating days)(maybe
the same people)w/pantrywings containing implants vital
to each obsession,& a funeral viewing room for family
wallowing if desired  Opposite theBirthingRoom  its all
here,the world      6000 feet aboveMan,breathtaking
our marvellous plastics,you who are made of plastic&
cannot live beyond vicarious flesh,lascivious positions
&feel of superiorVinyl,you may escape in our luxurious
foams,Lifestyles of theNoLongerHere every house a
vast foyer entrance w/winding staircase & yr limbos
goingUp& down,lowclass spirits yearning for highclass
sensation towels bathrobes blankets in their deleuzian
aNest w/4walls smeared w/VictorianHindu&Asian
pornographies,ceilings ofMirrors,interactive wetdreams
w/all Unreality  as if there is any difference between a
dick&a dildo aThing or aThought spasmodic digitals
almost like silk skin 1million pixelcount bedscreens
where you can be theStar of something &the satin lacy
feel between yrthighs rubbing together that is the point

up there,w/feet in the waterfall&brambles,stags suckled
atDianas breast  
a huge blowup ofVanGoghs A Pair of
Boots w/lifesize CGI imposition of almost nudeParis
Hilton draped erotically over the upright(undone)shoe
her arms&hands embrace a soiled bootlace as if naked
masculine shoulders while her tongue licks atLeather
obscenely meanwhile that poquito chihuahua tugs so
playfully at the sprawling sad shoelace which if pulled  
indefinitely will unravel what exists of her thongpanties
&from therePubic hair &whatever lies under that for
this is a selfreflective art always already sous-rature

bacchantes of the suburbs sob&the moon burns&bays
(French!)on the radio you can hear men screaming as
they are dragged off to prison cells,deathsquads,church
picnic stonings help me god i dont want to do it &
these are old taperecordings wedontknowwhathappens
next but veracity givesEdge to predominantly soothing
CDmusical performances&ersatz rainforest sounds out
of castles built of bone comes mysterious music
& here
are videos of women jumping screamingUp&down or
crowds cheering or singing inChoirs  or DVDs of small
animals being spikd crushd pulpd by black stiletto heels
&squeals of pain are hard to distinguish from squeals of
women winning newTVcars or a trip toHawaii or those
pervasive Rx orgasms   everyday is anApocalypse for
                  suspended here in a cacti& mirageVoid sparse
just as you like it neighbors &visitors are available,see
theScreenRoom storagecabinet &/orBluRay rack it is not
necessary to communicate w/other lifeforms at random,
on appointment or as daily unavoidable interface,only
when you want it  
this sensorium isYOURS,theDesign
is not to invoke,never provoke guilttrips of the past have
been met by yr personal AutoVirusGuard& immolated
this is a guarantee of use,see small $ print pg. 5649 of
UsersManual that means yr hand like God intends,signs
on,resigns all right of further MindChange UNLESS that
is a further program agreed to bySelf exists in motion,as
labeled either SURPRISE ME! or Shit, What....that
there are no on/off switches lets you know we areAll in
this together thru2theEnd -- Others? part of the fascination
is the ongoing &/or recurring wonder,that &/or Question
(not of marvels)if anything left beyond you exists,is
there,at such a distance,it would, hardly matter -- life
perchance on other planets galaxies or a town over the
horizon, irrelevant concerns for youll never reach them
or they you  not in this place not w/this system  others
are possible but then you never know

LosDos of course they are obsessed w/eating as many
exotic flavors textures blood suppurations as they will
consume before all colors& Fixtures &skins are gone,as
always empty always hungry compulsive filling up of
all the holes the cunt the rectum the mouth the eyes the
nostrils the ears the bellybutton
    6 billion years of
Evolution,difficult for 2sticks who cant get enough all
the good things ofEarth in OurTime,devoured as
stuffd in a dark bag ofNothing matters           
   the cosmic erotic it wants to go on forever we want it
to go on forever put it on aLoop recline& luxuriate in
theMobius of sunset midnite noon stars moon sunrise
over&over etc etc etc &yr glass of wine tea coffee beer
bourbon overflows w/out a bottom no discernibleEnd,in
search of aHappyEnding


 tezcatlipoca whose slaves we are
mocker, capricious creator,smoking mirror
lord of the here & now, muy cerebral& fickle
you see,Mr Tezcatlipoca misspoke himself he did not sew
dogheads to dogbutts to make our first ancestors,rather,
Tata&Nene,the 1st couple,he cut off their heads to stitch
these to their human butts to make the first dogs,a big
metaphysical difference here? probably not   in either case
these perros made by Senor T were our first ancestors
not much difference
i think not
1st man & 1st woman survive the 4thSun,a great flood,but
only as 2dogs
Tez,he will not let anything have a happy ending

before the great flood (everyone has one)(or earthquake or
drought or famine or plague etc) theUtensilsRevolted   pots
knives ladles needles rocks rebelled against the people&
ate them up
theSun eclipsed,or the Moon, &the hammers &soupspoons
devoured them
&before that,1000 years  all the weapons& personal items had
elbows,you were born from theKnees of gods(or a greatEgg)
or the toothbrush &the garagedoor opener of thefuture
devour you,just like a piece ofRope &a warclub drag you in
to get yr heartRemoved for the Big Owl
&night is locked up inside a plastic bowl,w/a blue lid, & lots
of stones &planets &useless things roll around inside
suchDarkness for a trillion years
Moyocoyatzin  Titlacahuan  Moquequeloa  

we know you are not happy god is not working for you
rather the reverse of course we chichimecSons of theDog
we are here to make the unknown known a sad project for
then the story is done(we are done)
        El Ciego & El Oculto discourse:   
                   this sounds like a chiliasm
                   a chili what?
sabemos inside all is,also, deja vu deja la Interior decor of
sus sesos  maybe he is French or el dio delTedio
whatever      speaking of food   
they fill up empty cargo container ships w/cardboard,los
americanos, & send them to China     &China uses the
cardboard to make streetsnacks,a little softener, spices &
chemical flavors yum yum but 65% cardboard   
it all recycles
whereas on these empty streets Wacko&Sucko sell Pishtacos
(no more fish no more sea) that is,Pishtaco (rhymes w/
Dorado) is a little white man he has white skin& he kills
&cuts up los pobres,removes the face&the heart etc
to use their bodyfat for fuel   car gas airplane gas it works
or also some kind of antiseptic lotion,good for spider
bites   or mosquitos,everything bites
el fin delMundo es solamente un bocado poco

they have a hard time understanding elSol deNoche,a
BlackSun  it is elementary,porque LosLosers,w/famous
nonambiguous brains they shake,shiver,shatter into many
pieces,sad plastoid chunks their littleLegos y suenos
elEstupido diddles his gold watch,Pensamientos delOro&
golden faucets no agua no juicio
everybodys a comedian  

he stood before the god naked  for 4 days,spread out in
metaphysical guts&blood of the slippery place,that is,our
sacred karaoke,a tlatoani moves hisTongue  when the
god speaks,or a snake wants toSing,or sell some thing theres
a hiss or a hum when heEnters the brain
   if you think god
is not aJoker you got the wrong desert gringos   &so when
consumers no longer have sentido to buy,supply meets
demand w/solution items: guns razorblades ropes suicide
pills,duel use pillows[Sleep & Endless Sleep]   for surely
you know thisPlace belongs to,pues, OurBoy      
                                       The Enemy on Both Sides
welcomingFlesh(&/or bones)from both sides of the border

you see,Tez,he will not let anything end well

All that will collapse   electric wires &babble,cuteStuff
(warzones superstorms suffocation by animal carcasses)
Tokwah shut out ghosts (who became businessmen)  &
now we are Full & you are Emptied & now we are
everything & you are not,ourBusiness closed,transaction
complete deal concluded done      gone      adios
stunned in yr home or casa,it passes on a screen or offers
itself to perception like women or other goods,all the
places where people were standing moving ahead behind   
lunchcounters carwheels guns clerks prettygirls soldiers
bankers tanks bulldozers(who sought not a place to live
but to feelAlive) globe as a village,village a shoppingmall
house is a room room a box,Box of assorted brain neurons
of spectators of history like dying persons it passes thru
aSkull as if already gone,Life from so far away does
it matter inside yr appointed caja you dont care,Spirits
do all this in ourCabezas,that you were embodied was not
a punishment but an achievement,Gracias!  su cuerpo
in theFuture just blocks theViews   
                                                   a marvelousAfterlife
in yr human dream ofThings,behind every illusion a
blue screen &that hum,like distant insane machinery,what
they are scraping from yrSky is not tears but dust,dust
older than theSun,dust that was the bottom of some
originalSea (of dust)

& when he laughs,look out

you can still dip in the sea, i.e.
the dark sea of awareness except there is no water,Carlos  
no water no water we have warehouses lots of beer&coke
etc you can desalinate yr tears or drink piss out of yr bare
hands too bad we ran out of paper cups(no trees) in the
desert we drink each other,lowly things eat higher intellect&   
vice versa,mushrooms eat professors,PhDs eat toad shit
yr shit that glows in the dark
a chili ad?
far out in space,some other world reads this neon desert
like an advertisement
Sr Baudrillard,a smart guy,figured that out

what the next Sun will be who knows    LaAspiradora
enormousBeing,sleepless beyond sleep   a blue smoke rises
up,scent of copal  allThings are painted w/this blue stare
before sacrifice,it comes from afar    what is time,Space
moving thru itself like a machine,drone of galactic
space like an approaching vacuum cleaner,theMysterious
Housekeeper tickling yr ass w/a broom    maybe it
snores,a hum like a peaceable kingdom

here we are in a deserted shopping mall in a suburb in a
world,a small blue man runs a vacuum cleaner in a room
before the final door
                      Mictlan tecutli,DeathLord whose domain is
The Place of No Exits
   all beyond behind this old blue man is emptiness
   if you really want to leave hell open the door for you, i.e.
   at the end there is no more just a shrunken little blue man
   alone before theAlone
   opening a door    as you dreamed

Gracias a EPoe, ARimbaud, FNietzsche, GWFHegel, WWhitman, JBaudrillard, PVirilio, AKroker, DCook, JBierhorst, CCastaneda, Words of the Desert Fathers, & Chilam Balam

Barbara Mor, native of southwest American coast & desert (SoCal, AZ, NM). Work in Orpheus Grid, Sulfur, BullHead, Mesechabe,Ms., Trivia (US); Ecorche, Intimacy, Spectacular Diseases (UK). Onliine: Dissident Voice (6/14/04), (10/13/08); TriviaVoices #1 (2/05), #5 (2/07), & #7-8 Double Issue (9/08); CTheory (8/4/05), (12/25/05), /12/06), (4/3/08), & (12-3-08). Author of pagan ecofeminist The Great Cosmic Mother: Rediscovering the Religion of the Earth HarperSF 1987, 1991). A dumb title: my ms title, The First God, was over-ruled.