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“To read this maniacal stream, set metronome to beat at high speed.”
Andante Fortisimo.

The beat poets charged with the first half of the 20th century hearts racing. They could only dream in delirious sweat of the beat to come. Theirs was beating drums after a victory, ready for a brand new war. Now, anticipating defeat, the beat’s still on. With collective contribution it keeps increasing in speed, and to speak poems of the same might, to the same beat, that would be of madness. That’s why many consider Andrew K., to be mad. Known many times to burst out in rage, throwing chairs, and people, and trains. Andrew K. yells, speaking obvious and hidden truths. Like the town madman of New York. Speaking for the cement, the trees, the bums, the books, the past, the future. It’s all said. The shaman bum. This tribal chant gone mad, gone wrong. But he speaks, “don’t fear”. It’s just, “humanity”.

HUMAN. The NUMAN. The man hu(nter), hu(nter gatherer) man. The post war apocalypse is still going on. It’s just, technology…

We should all (I think) thank Mr. Andrew K. Because humanity has a final exam. He starts to write the paper; he is studying each Wikipedia webpage. Sidetracked the computer is just too much. Something more trusty, so he types on a typewriter. And out it pours. Fuck him. He is like Jackson Pollock. I could write that. Of this, of that, of many things, of wars, of people, of…

“Of humanity”. So—deep, that’s what they say. But they know he speaks for them…


This text is prohibited in all spaces that wish to deny that circles rule the universe. If you believe in straight lines, flat earths or boxes, this is not for you.