Osiris with a Trombone Across the Seam of Insubstance

A fast march of words on a spree to derail the restrictions and constrictions of their meanings; ok, so maybe not a howl, but a cry of freedom, harkening and heartening the thought of an escape from the Manacles of Utility and the iron crowns of ideologies; perhaps to grant permission(s), while con-currently indulging in the vicious lassitude of conquering nations; a floating on the furious waves with Huidobro, Beckett, Goytisolo, Whitman, and not drowning. The former fabric of a word-tattered lover's coat forever longed for and always disappearing in a magnifying mirror to emerge once again unexpectedly as desire, not yet fulfilled, generating an unwinding wordweft out to expose its own tale, including the stream of the dream of its weaving--and yes, including the gossip!--and this tale is a tale of love, a tale of unraveling, a waltz of destiny, of nations, a magic act in which words, before your very eyes, transmute into flowing blood and confessional bloodlines, into long longed for longing, into states and statelessness and states of statelessness, those are the best, into an explanation of nations and notions and long-ignored worldwide events, spreading their poison into the very latest trends in the arts and philosophy's debates. And the roots and rules of dispossession are discussed.