Distillation [Hotel des Sens/Document Humain]

By James Benedict, jamesbenedict77@hotmail.com

Action Writing in Paris

'When the limbeck hath by sev'ral drops
A separation made...
T'will be no cost
To fix't in writing, that it be not lost.'
Thomas St. Nicholas


At night I am surprised
By a soiree mousse
In the Univers Gym
In the catacombs
Below la Rue des bons Enfants.
An ample tube
Is rigged to an air condition system
Its opening covered with a finely textured net
The propulsion deflected
Onto a dance floor
Accentuated with pillar tied tarpaulins.
Bubble bath solutions and water
Drip, flow, and vapourise into the slipstream
The netmasks ovulate
A mass of hydrolucent orbs
Sliding out like a regenerating dragon
Images of successive causality
Ultimate universal matter
Ectoplasmic simulacra
Cascading avalanches of scopic corpuscles
Transmuting to progressive glaciers
Immunising the corridors
Irreversible tongues of ovocipeding foam
In perpetual motion
Primal masses of incipient neural networks
Throbbing sensible substances
Of multidimensional intensions.


Cool lava seas light as air
Expanding porridge on the prowl
Taking possession of naked men
Dancing in noctambulating mousse
Their heads bobbing on the white element
To the sounds of Miles Davis
Their bodies basking
In simultaneous translations
While from beyond a high wall
Situation room spectators gaze in awe
At the effervescent ephemeral body
Of a hypertrophic Hydra
The many headed mercurial dragon
Manifesting itself below the thresholds
Of Herculean panoptica
Its transparent scales scintillating
In colour graduations of peacock tails
Its ovolucent radiance of inner glows
Sliding over wet prismatic hemispheres
Multiple spectral projections
Of Proteus, Triton, and Poseidon
Textured by stroboscopic high resolution lenses
Saturated beyond colour coded signifiers.


Seeking solace in the shades of squamous coils
Solutions of naked men
Dance in anachronistic rituals
Of transformative spagyric modes
Crystallising synaesthetic poesis
The exquisite sensations of foam
The desires of skinhungering rhythms
Gently arousing every body surface
By the hesitating momentum
Of undecided metaplasia.

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