Image 1

Image 1

An approach through wet 

air pin-sharp & blown under; 

sidelong a body

and over then down, papery brown, 

eyes, hardened, concreting: drenched 

in sky surface tension 

depth surface spread plain & 

nearly still, a temptation 

for hand heels let the body 

let itself dipping a pair of wrists 

wet hard cold knees dip 

knees saturation. Ossifying light. 

Like unlike crystal. Concrete 

light breath teeming drops. Look; 

looking; the ground being 

hard beneath. The still film 

all autumnal. Rippled 

with 500-odd stony. 

The body crawling

stony-hard. Sky-wet. 

Mug

Reflection a shine dimly

porcelain extending into late soft air.

Quotidian

hard certainty gathering

a glowing evening hubbed, when attended;

passive & resistant; a

weak force partnering and combating –

sublime quantities of worlding energies.                    

   A vortex

of chinking & a

 comical shuffling to orders, through varnishing mists eating

semi-skilled lungs, anti-septic shadowless light,

bent heads in ear-muffs,

heartsick & dreaming.

Ride

surging hot curves & falling dips falling back negotiating rural night black full beam

staggering hairpin one in four flashing of chrome and shine head lit ‘phantom black’

paint; midday seashine sunflash arseache . . .  yawning morning motorway windblast

high speed corridor legsore boredom & anxiety lookingout for red flash; getting on summer 

leathersweat I Wanna Be Your Dog; passing shining yellow smudge greengold

leaning past surging through & up high velocity flowing blood rush to climbing cloud immensity

sublime white on blue, the whole universe is natural, petrol rubber powerhouse metal heat with

my baby 'bout half past eight dipping and cresting waves of asphalt sky headfull howling, roaring

legs fucking horseboxed & queued cages & cage riders dreary distances exhausted

                                                                                                                       gorgeous

benumbed drop-off seascape dusking purgatorial night revelling dream legs arm up with

                                                                                                                       bottle. 

Summer

Fuck

Rain greening; I sliding head we turning palm to grip spasmodic

                    fuming breath quiet & a dirty brow sheening; a doppler

wailing phantastic obscenities imploding concentrate furrowing dis-

                     unity good lost broken differential slipping and con-

junction. Acid teeth. Predatory stumbling, tottering clumpy drunk. 

                     Inflating zones of contraction; squeal. Impulsing outer night 

dusting sill, damp sheet / heaving flank. We

                     exquisite tentative magnesium aggression, we scarlet & white, 

I black silent ecstatic shocks, sharpening in green air,

                     wet-night concrete & the hungry stench of fluid acrid musk

erotic olfactory feasting, a flip-top head, a twitching pulsation of a shoulder-blade,

                     a drift of smoke through an open window. 

Proletariat (fragment)

chains drenched in sea spray. A raising arm in a

grey vortex of murmuring & a spinal optimism.   Determined intestinal  despair.  City sky

rising cloud shifts; a dripping drop amongst picket-line head hairs. Refusing,  

forging. Roaring fingers, picking, piercing, gripping, throbbing &

her head is bobbing acquiesence but her shoulders palpitate

with fury and desire.  To be a robber, a conquerer. Living through shards

of glass.  The grass is soft and damp between her fingers, greening her nostrils.  

I blink and sting in the sweating sun. He blinks and stings

under a weak sarcastic force.

A shove in the back. A crack to the head.  

Drifting exhausted & taking normalisation. Being realistic.

Come back another time. Having a  cigarette & a pint;

laughing scattered.  To the revolution. Let's have another round.

The sun is shining outside, with fuzzy dreams of running. An edge of nicotine craving.

Ankles skinned with iron chafing. Clocking off for a piss; live for pleasure, not pain.

All you have to lose is boredom and a throat clogged with boxes, cement,

the stiff voices of pissed-off punters and the inevitability of being cheated.

ifyoulikeitsomuchwhydontyougolivethere.com; bypass the gates in the first place.

Sheltering from cracking smoke under a wagon wheel, her chest might break with 

dry dizziness, scarlet salt, a sexual thrill of tearing open the future. 

A pinnacle of murmuring affinity as salt is passed; consideration negating trepidation:

aggravation in terms of fucking nonsense all the same, canting prattle infecting my own mum's speech 

and yours. A grinning crowd jiggers and giggles and frays around the edges with a gun rising up,

her furious love flows with intent around a rifled barrel.  

Our fingers flicker, dawning,  for an alarm

Dog

clicking concretion, sun sliding across brilliant multihues

caramelising an easiness of gaiting drawing in singing & scenting &

depth of rapid  beating. A muscular & memorial line

through fecal multitudes, quavering forces of roarings;   

fearsnaps; fierce intrusions of blue light or dark

bathing cold amber. Wriggling milky multiple warmth tearing

sightless iron walkless black drift.

Presenting a lit clickpadding brief and fleeting at a trot 

feral, domestic, into running summer grass.  

House

Forcing infinite microdimensions temporal & standing

a flowing; labouring from footings always sweating rhythmic

waves rimpling tympanic sheets & sheer scouring

construction tears upper layers and beats through

earth to sky. A blossoming decaying. Simultaneously through immense 

varieties of speed. Filling with flesh life & multiplying at that and 

beyond streams of hairy wind-sacks conjoining with 

cosmic multiplicities & dancing galactically, mountainous creep and slippage

Partition 2

The proletariat is the working class but the working class are not the proletariat

The significance of all this for my current argument is simply that the individual proletarian is an assemblage and an event, a life, that is composed of, and with, the society, the economic structure and the collectives of which he or she is a part. He or she is a part of them; they are a part of him or her. She is her membership of the proletariat; the proletariat is what it is in part because of her membership of it. There is no opposition between the individual and the collective. The proletariat is itself an individuation as an event that becomes through the individuals that compose it who are themselves, along every trajectory, events and collective assemblages. 

However, it also needs to be understood that the event that is the proletariat is not a ‘people’, which is a bourgeois concept that suggests a definable collective identity and culture. This is why, at this point in my argument, I am deliberately not using the term ‘working class’; it is perfectly possible to project a working class identity or a working class culture, and I would argue that this is a reactionary project, an argument that is somewhat supported by the (limited) success of the fascist BNP in doing precisely that. It is reactionary because it suggests that workers have a collective identity that is discrete and separable from the wider society and the economic system within which it exists. It is the collective correlative of the individual bourgeois subject. The proletariat, on the other hand, is purely an event composed of the common interests of individual workers within capitalism – their ultimate common interest, as I have already stated, being a surpassing and dissolution of capitalism that would also and simultaneously be the surpassing and dissolution of the proletariat. 

No communist future can be based in the proletariat as such; no communist practice in the present can be based in notions of proletarian identity in the present. The proletariat is immanent to capitalism and will disappear along with it: there will be, there can be, no proletariat in a communist society.

This suggests that the proletariat is the only necessarily revolutionary group in relation to capitalism. Other minoritarian collectives – women, ethnic minorities etc. – can conceivably win full ‘equality’ with men, with white people, with heterosexuals, which is to say that they can be accepted into the majoritarian, within capitalism and without disturbing its fundamental structures. These collectives may have been, and may continue to be, exploited by capitalism but they are not immanent to it. It is, however, utterly inconceivable that the proletariat can gain equality with the bourgeoisie; the idea is absolutely oxymoronic. This is perhaps why Deleuze and Guattari state that ‘The power of minority, of particularity, finds its figure or its universal consciousness in the proletariat.’ The only two courses of action open to the proletariat as such are either amelioration – which might make some workers more comfortable but will leave them in the same subaltern and precarious class position – or the surpassing of capitalism and of the proletariat itself.

Window 4

Innocence 2

Love a breath heat satin trail yes unwritten

blaze sweet through electricians’ knee-pits &

monogamous prejudices, love inscribing tomorrow.

Sin was slack convention grinding the workers,

reactionary fakery; skin thoughtfully in response &

forgetting, thrilling a mobility constructing

crime patterning fires of libertine order.

Suffering

portents                       gears

      drip

       gnawing abyss

an                 noise

evergrey

                      mindful                 burning

           stink         seriousness

    empty glass &

                       scouring         for

blank

                          skin          trapped    a

train           leaves

as   bile

                                           blinding          hollow

an passions

       malign

flailing

                                                                       &    misrecognising

     searing           shaking

                         wrenching

                  harrowing                gripped in

          drooling