#XVII for akindofrecord …


What about the days we choose to live

Lima’s words

The idea of destiny is a phrase that says

they are coming to get us

it is completed by another

go out to meet them

in Gamboa shadows lighting fires in caves

or is it Bolaño again

lost images

poems and

a lump smells

recoil we do know at least a part of us does

questionable girls

because a girl rolls over

because of a mistranslation the part with no

regret the role of the girl is

in question and

old gods do die and new gods do



Jesus in a hotel room Tosches’s Jesus girls

pay to take him in mouth a part of him

Nick’s word irrumates

a part of us remembers paradise


but I told him the date and then said

that I had been running across the street

to help her

when I was hit by the car

Straub is it so strange in both Peter S. and Bolaño

there are casement windows


a lump smells

a life swerves

a green stares up



her legs

luz es tiempo
point to point
thigein & conatus

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another week past see how much has happened to a kind of record


sometimes I feel I can take more away than they can

but it isn’t true Is it

the story ends the song goes on the dirty pacing on goes

the end the start the knot the kick at you they

are not your clothes


arms cross over

uncross cross over

uncross on goes

man in his quintessence


I feel I can take you wait

than they you wait father is gone

mother gone

in her

they have cut me in half


arms cross over

uncross you wait on goes a woman

a woman stops in half

like this there is no more

point to point
theatrum philosophicum
thigein & conatus

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please let me know if you are reading this kind of record by using the contact link on the left


define muscle

shoulder whole wheel




in all things he will excel me


Karl Ove to his son

as a son from the point of view

of love my son asks me

to reattach the sterile patch

quickly his wounded arm


he will be leaving is it for us

is it for us to carry on

quickly to carry on


define muscle turning on the axle-tree

I can think of no better thing to say and

have no greater wish to wish him

I will tell him I wish that in all things

he will excel me Karl Ove said so


quickly I reattach the sterile plaster

to his open sore



it is inexcusable to use the phrase mortal weight

in an invented scenario I don’t believe abstraction

gains any height from it I don’t wish to pontificate

and inexcusable to lift the straw man of the left

on the railroad of disappointment China Miéville

imagines is a railway to invent imagine

a wanker in a hotel room or suicide I am her

do I clean do I wash am I soiled it is

from the wound of my mouth justified

wound we share we who have opened

each other’s legs



luz es tiempo
point to point
thigein & conatus

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to point to point to a kind of record: XI.


he is without any


they say

he is without

yet he is

yet is he

inside it


he is inside his own


he is inside his own


and he has himself

knows his heart his mind is clear

his mind is made up

by a maid when he gets out of bed

gets off the bed strangling his cock

in the sheets and gathers of the sheets

the throng of sheets the throng gathers


he is shat he is jizzed

soaped and scented anointed

with a careless hand

supercilious unction


and the maid has only helped him

with careless hand

gathering the wet and knotted sheet

cleaning the toilet


living the again again

the again again

workaday world Shakespeare


how does she read

how does she fare



he has deeply sorry sorrow

at depth neither drug can reach plum

no alcohol nor love love frack up

love passion he has without

he is without suffering


whose tongue said it all for him

her how did it all get said


he has a sorry sorrow deep

dumb inside

he has himself



on whom is bestowed the fat

fat of his hand of his anointment

he has throttled his white poem

in a hotel bed Wordsworth

the again again of his oil

all this


all this he has

he has fat

he is without kneeling

is his legs apart

is huge with being

his legs apart he has

all this inside snorts


how did it come

to be how did it come

all this all


a machine wash for your shit

a machine for jizz again again

the poem wash


does not kneel

is without kneeling

wash the poem

this instant




is the water


grey the days

midweek the midweek days

turn grey


daydream grey



outside every classroom

so grey


sweetsmelling grey of a thousand years

a thousand sweet from now

now this instant old us grey

sweetsmelling dust


so grey so

day dreams

classroom windows

thousand years from now


thousand miles from here


so grey so

also out of reach

forever out


my hat is grey

my heart is

will the object of our hearts also


will the object of our hearts be grey


will your eyes open on mine so

day dreams

classroom windows

and thousand thousands


will I dream in them

look forever out

forever out dream

this instant


luz es tiempo
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thigein & conatus

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choosing the present above all others to affirm this: Xth point to point a kind of record


I never thought

we’d be in the same place


but here you are

in the same place

you took off

every excessive movement


a burrow a loin

every extravagance is

the very extravagance of

the presumption


there you are


you have taken off


a presumption


a stone

a luxurious muff


a last possible moment

a last possible

before I


luz es tiempo
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3 quotes from Santiago Gamboa, sentiments for the season: illustrated with photographs by Sebastião Salgado

… beyond the borders of our beautiful countries there is a terrifying outside world filled with life, a black sun that stretches over a number of continents, only revealing its beauty after the first impact. What you see on the surface is horrible and cruel, but slowly the the beauty emerges; in our world, the surface is lovely and everything is bright and shiny, but with time what we see is the horror.

– Santiago Gamboa, Necropolis, trans. Howard Curtis, 2012, p. 446

… nothing of what we were then can be understood by anyone today, nobody believes in what we believed in; the things that were important to us provoke laughter or curiosity…

– ibid., p. 444

… the best way to live life to the full is to take it to the limits, putting your face in its deepest depths, its edges, its caverns and ruined palaces, only that way will we keep our bodies hot and our heads boiling with dreams …

– ibid., p. 447


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to be added this week to a kind of record each week added to: part VI


I am as I age wrestling with the idea of affirmation

a long death scene follows which I do not make up

when I return turn when I return the idea of a room

come on now they have his hands come on now rubber

fingers in mouth in arsehole inside a rummage sale of

public private interests like you when I return the idea

it’s not the first time you are dying and you have never

been disabled in my sight you have been old before you

before you have been a woman and you and have been

the child of a woman come on now like you I return turn

to at no instant where hesitation has a chance of being

being thrown by the who said the dark lady who said I

I have heard borne witness to grown men screaming


undergoing this procedure I climb in and out of bed

like you new angel angel new I cannot turn my eyes

away each thing returns at every instant I like you

heap up before myself

luz es tiempo
point to point
thigein & conatus

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for a kind of record, parts IV & V


I am very happy

you could hear the risk in his voice

he rubs his penis across her waist

the danger


what did you say to me

did you say

too much

too much of looking over the precipice

too much of walking around and around

in these dark rooms where I live out empty days



and the stripper

with her hair glossy running

down around her breast

curling into the hollow

of his loin

in a bituminous river




take hold of yourself

and girded against the unexpected


get a good grip


the small of her back

wipe your finger

pull the latch

open the window

a light breeze

with the tang

of revelation



but I was just angry

every night

No not every night

every night and always

every night


what happened last week


every night

I can smell dogshit


my body boils

is the pit

in miniature

a model of hell

no light escapes

and the light in the cave is not reassuring

although it dances has the highpitch whine

of a blade of a wire a single strand spitting

in a vacuum

no relief just the superimposition of totem

animals one over another over another over

another incessant pull gravity and

the vanity of man


who should commit suicide tomorrow or tonight

who should give himself up to the pull of the Platonic

the shadow does not me

shadow does not

not me


what expression escapes

mortal danger

or should I say personal

but vanity should emote


I should kill myself tomorrow or tonight

I should take my life

luz es tiempo
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celebrating Santiago Gamboa, as well as stating the obvious & wondering once again at the sentimental Left, melting even before it gets to the battlefield–were we fantasizing? grinning stupidly, terrifyingly

…the reasons someone who’s about to shoot another man thinks he has may vary, but the deed is the same, someone will press the trigger, and when the lead breaks the skin and drills into the cranium and damages a lobe and perforates it and opens a path in the brain, a life with a history and past will be cut short and a body transformed into a bloodstained mass that will fall to the ground, and that fact, which is horrible in itself and can’t in any way be explained or justified, makes all the reasons equivalent; in the middle of the twentieth century it was ideologies, then it was land or the control of resources, reserves of hydrocarbons. …

President Trump and Russian President Vladimir Putin talk during the family photo session at the APEC Summit in Danang, Vietnam, on Saturday.

Do you know the contemporary name for perversity? It’s democracy. If a chimpanzee with a drum becomes popular and amusing, he could be elected president.

– Santiago Gamboa, Night Prayers, trans. Howard Curtis, Europa Editions, 2016, p. 222

…the world wasn’t made for harmony and kindness, but quite the contrary, for confrontation. The world is a boxing ring, a battlefield. And you don’t go to battlefields with smiles and soft words, no, sir, you go armed to the teeth.

– ibid., p. 232

We played with madness (were we fantasizing?) until the afternoon gave my mouth the terrifying smile of the idiot.

– ibid., p. 290

National Scandal

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on a kind of record, II


she said

I’m going to talk to you quite openly

and she

apologised for her vulgarity


is there a way onward


by Gamboa

the western cordillero


a patch of vomit

made up of the lights

of Bogotá


cupped in the hands

of a thousand digits


figures of bone

walk the western



still recognisable

moving without acknowledgement

you are watching


relations of yours

I ask


you trap me in fucking

you trap me

we shut up

we know


the identity

we need to show

indifference to

luz es tiempo
point to point
thigein & conatus

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