In the Ancient Brick Time of Alblackica, the Wheel is the Feather of the Storm Whose Indices are One and Zero and Variable Based on the Factor Polymerization of its Atoms

MAZUVONT MOTHER-ETERNAL, Samij Datta, 2011

In the Ancient Brick Time of Alblackica, the Wheel is the Feather of the Storm Whose Indices are One and Zero and Variable based on the Factor Polymerization of its Atoms

Consciousness-Analogue

In every street there is a house without a window that opens towards the seaside; the breeze doesn’t blow in Al-Parabi-vacuum, the sun is the virtual Dog Star of the moon writing its own alblackica texts on the runic beds of no-time; journeys ‘within moments’ from sunrise patterns of the dockyard to the self-shaped ships of an ancient Columbus across the boveran élan of the cape boulevard into the diminishing light of the twilight bay sinking into the blackbow of many sub-tropics of land and air is the real observatory eyehole through which relative densities of quasi-fluids are measured. Mazuvont, here, looking from the tower of the iced-glassed container that held the empty buckets of the time-wheel of transformation and change, saw them run naked on the beach, stars shining like alph-flowers of a mega-moun clock strumming the binary hairs of the oceans’ string a la singing the Terrasuxa Quataz eternal songs; some dressed in drainpipes like the Dylan poet rambling and turning and changing and laughing as the procession met the dawn of the hour returning to the sea.

That was a clear whistle before the rains came in with the mighty roar of the great flood; Mazuvont, here, in the tower looking at the waves saw the terrible beauty caught in the beast of the naked ocean’s arms churning the great waters into the sorcery of dance – reason lost the profane madness of its own clear identity and became the good man of a ghost who was not seen anytime but laughed and sang as if all are empty signs in the streets of Shigatse, as if nothing existed before or after, and, only this seclusion is just a game of sponsoring the zero factor of the flying birds that clutched together the hot metal flame of the shining Helium plates that was even not before but only today, and with the cross-prime stylus of the Yuwazia, the dromos-dero was finally walking in space…

– Joy Roy Choudhury

Ref: Bob Dylan Album Cover: Slow Train Coming (1979)

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