BEWARE: Technologists of the obscure




By understanding the fundamentals of ambiguity the technologist of the obscure harnesses the power to create suitable artifacts (not to be confused with anti-facts) that encrypt the purity of communication into a meshwork of impenetrable significations. This technology, having being exploited by philosophers for ages, has surreptitiously leaked out and fallen into the hands of the architects, engineers and builders of unearthly images and unintelligible utterances, a group of formidable sophists that work relentlessly in the advancement of their art. Commonly grouped together under the heading of ‘Poets’, these deserters of lucidity utilize a wide array of techniques to camouflage their superficiality and produce, to all appearances, objects of intelligence. Their methods include the avoidance of the vernacular, the exploitation of the thesaurus, and the occasional usage of logatomes. This alchemy of language can reach such degree of high abstraction that the reader can momentarily forget the existence of the earth. Such manipulation of perception, while not yet proven to be lethal, can lead to a long-lasting veneration for the incomprehensible. While there might be some value in fiddling with obscurity, it is highly unlikely that straightforward communication will ever be supplanted by the monstrous impenetrability of the ambiguous.

Contemporary Poetry

lessons in finesse

Taking a dump

A standstill collapse
     locked door

sneaking a peek
to glimpse the rotting fuel
tunneling down a pipe
these anchoritic pieces
of me
falling into the orgy
   classless waste
— a humming noise
coming from the wall

           the thought
that you’ll never leave
this toilet alive

why should i?

this could be my last

my masterpiece of unpremeditated

the revelation of the kingdom
of heaven
precisely when my
fat butt cheeks
begin to contract
 for the final
(into the consciousness
of process and

jesus lord the fetidness
the work of
cleaning the gorge

my hands
 gosh my hands
have mastered the crevice


i stand, faucet, dry

the world

return to the busy society
as another impeccable
glamour divinity
of the


Modern Poetry