Louis Armand








insomnia pacifism & toy guns / in the cut-

out cereal box futuro-home you brochure

a rebuild / witness as scheduled power of

no protest conditioned reflexology / e.g.

adopt adumbrate add-to-wishlist adderall

wordpuke / night sweats conspicuous biome

tric head-on-maypole-ism exclusively for

you / ’re TV lovechild’s zoned indentured

cannibal labouring full frontal lobotomy

hello is this some kind of sick joke / well

there’s a cure for anything kid just throw

money hit-the-gimp-in-the-smacker wins

a prize / lightyears into future so bright

they keep locked in cyclotrons w/ smiley

face recyclable brainimplants you can eat





DI/ODE CCLXXXII (for Reza Negarestani)



headtheatre of the obversed & revered makeshifts.

disjoint temporarily out-of-time

each time the trick of vocabulary fails

to find login. shoot first point last the lost

fasces of ancient software bundle

shows cause. reversed because observed faces

in mirrorland two eyes like spiders

eating each other in a jar. what does it mean

light can’t escape? sees only the op

timism of circumstance between hyphens

where danger’s an object of grace.

return to panic-cycle of loosed faeces come to

tell what’s already known. the subject

is time & this is timeless a pent-up magnifier

an untimely. later they’d deduce

the ace in the hole was its exact duplicate.

by any other abject pandering to

fragile & solitary measures wld ending be as moot.








a word of warning makes Chinese whispers down

         the pneumatic post / ear to ear & mouth

to mouth / eyes blank beneath / the rewound

         tape, subtly punctuated. gathered

in that place / sacred to the scapegoat, tongues

         anointed w/ snake oil, they renew

their vow. wheels turn / the calendars go round.

         soylent dreams of interplanetary realestate

launch the ships / where once piratical seas

         now the summit of a stateofmind.

ash rains for years at a time but still the days

         do penance, taking neither side.

like eavesdropping on a dispute / between

         a lobster & a fish. or the worm

experiencing the apple from within. “what does it

         know / that we can’t?” the world in a

banging conundrum, a dead dog’s dinner

         on a plate. does candour break the hyp

notist’s spell or deepen sleep? in polar snow

         white as sham piety, when the pilgrim kneels

to kiss the human relic of themselves

         & bring it back to life.








we have to learn our lesson, do we? the dog-days

of Pontius Pilate accessorised

after the fact. teargas & happy oestrogens

rejoicing in streets paved w/

alien calculus, such is the random thing that

brings stricture into worldliness.

though no amount of understatement wld ever com

pensate for Amerika. I, too, have

felt its leathery cold hands upon my face,

in dreams of banishment of the uncooperative humours.

                  humanity may be extinct in the “wild”

but when ex

planation knows the score before you play it,

do you still play it? let them sing

to credulous monkeys the poetry of advertisement.

if infinites in physical

theories flower on a hillside, like free love or divine

excrement, exponentially small.








impenitent fruit light fear’s cold nocturne. an ad

versary in a cage, a lapidarium. what do

headwaters know of the ocean? these migraines

are real even if their sufferer isn’t.

I dispel winter, I raise the body

to the power of itself. & by these acts declare,

that for every rule of art a platypus

lays an egg. concerning alienism, there are other

worlds to be saved, other orphans

to stow in the escape-pod. mass movement

tells of pending impact event.

                           le mot juste is a-million-to-one,

& does data, too, dream of

paternal recognition? “forsakes me, for 

                  sakes me not. forsakes me, forsakes me not.”









LOUIS ARMAND’s poetry collections include Infantilisms (forthcoming 2023), Monument (with John Kinsella, 2020), East Broadway Rundown (2015), Indirect Objects (2014), Letters from Ausland (2011) &  Strange Attractors (2003).  He is the author of the libretto A House for Hanne Darboven (2021) & novels including The Garden (2020), The Combinations (2016),  Abacus (2015) & Clair Obscur (2011).  His critical writings include Contemporary Poetics (ed. 2007), The Organ-Grinder’s Monkey: Culture after the Avantgarde (2013) & Entropology (2023).  His work has been included in the Penguin Anthology of Australian Poetry, World English Poetry & Poems for the Millennium, & has been widely translated.  He is formerly an editor of the international arts journal VLAK. 



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