First Routine Second Variant: The One with the Shoes the Haircut and Herbert Marcuse
I wantid to do my erliest rutines that I never do anymor. &
From my continud expojure to performs art I have concluded. Nothing changes. Human natur is ultimatly - bisckit.
At this time poetri is [the sqwid/ litte doodle on a Yellow Pages/&] his alienacions.
Coz [insert latest fatbusting reserch/Gulf War combat chic/philosofhy or somthing], /ordinary peple or somthing, caus thats like emptying ptry of
human shopworn tokens. [/2ndhand indignasion, /] that disipate its ends in my mild narrativ energy
So anyway. This is a poem abot the [pornographi/shoos/lawndry/] Im always [never/washing/dumping/never/].
Lyke, wen y/ [go into Ravels/Becoze they dont /] trying not to laufh --
the usual skizophrenia. & the other [/Kung Fu slipper neurotick]
[Descrybe yr riht foots iresistible swishness/the ciropodist coming on yr/ /still are/] – a pm of spiritual crisis/former shell - [/transformacion, blah blah] blah.
I gos home, my left foots starting to ake, & my arch is straind --
& I’m thinking, O no, everyons had [brekfast/chicen pox/]. How can you be such a dedbeet.
So anyway this is a poem about how I bowht a pm of graet vacuity…I mean evryons had [had it /yuve had it/ /had/]-- a complete nonreturnabel washout.
Yeah join in.
God dammit, I want some [aire freshner/] arond here.
Anyway this is a pm I rote about.
Once its surfis has been scratcht out [insert selfharm/] belying the affectless blah blah --
This is a poem abot the haircut I always get - after the shoos.
[Its a solipstickal/ the lyrik moment,] were formal structur seems to collapse in on its
& anyway my hares finaly gone thru the 60s into a mess. So I put it up in [kitchen utensil/hairgrips & /storage] to save it & [Except moms / ]
Are yoo a disapointment to yorr translators - Problems at home…Try Maybellene mascara – to lift & separat…thickens & seazons all in one.
Anyway I stil dont now except [Descryb yu want it /consentration camp/survivalist camp]. So I go in - Basiclly, I want a girls harcut, I says. Well have a look at this, she sayz & gives me this [power tool/form gide/ –
& I am /wrekkt distanse/ tat] & the [/mothwatering manes] not
& shee [ / ? / descryb her rubbing her pussy aganst yr sholder. ]
Describ [But she was ever so /]
[ strip all the 2nd hand techneq - coz thats [ / ] .
[Go home/blah].
Dear Herbert Marcuse
Pleas explane the perversitie of [The Gift/commoditiz/the gaze]. You hav God & y/ buy this owtfit & [try 2 other disparat routines/] & yr hart [arhythmea/transplant/ & yre] floting on angel dust /eeryone asks if yve had a facelift –
I wil never hav to buy another child in my lyfe - you say to the outfit coz yre so derangd w/ hapiness. & even thoh [cut it short/] yr life is over - you have the Owtfit.
& then the niht yoo [cut it short/]
Why doz this hapen.
Frantic.
Dere Frantic –
I cd giv you a lot of theoretikal hooey from my Harvard corse abut Repression & alienasion of the inner yoo, but Id be lying.
As we use to say at the CIA, th truth is evry girl has a faery godmother who is exactly like her real mother. & even thou yore using slimline salad dressing & yove airobicized & even waxd yr bikini line, come that important engajment yr evil faery godmother coms along & wavs her magik wand & says, Haramjadee, I told you!
Pleas send a photo.
& thats th truth - abut harcuts.
Thankyu.
This is [So this is/ wen I was befor/] a pm abot when I was [/giving/ulcerus] why I waznt .
Becuz I was [finishd/wanting] when I
be an [/So im an/] I says. Only I never …
& waiting for my [I seys/ I dole to /] what id I manage to scruwnge from my [my fancy mice/my furrier prince/] my I – it cumes on me this [ me ? /reqisite translacion/] me
– just wat I did sed I me--
Are you a disapointment to yorr parents - Hedacke, tenss nervus headake – try Maybelene coral lipgloss - spreds strait from the fridge - cool, firm, satisfying…
– that fere of th word & [rewrites &/like] lozer [milky hooker/] style.
All [my/American/] nacural [speech/gifts/ ? ] I was a 24 carat personality. Piddling into yr shoubox [insert a qwalificasion/] selling yr [/insipidity],
[apeal to the awdiens shared “Nescafe” experians – this nihilizm.- Say it was nothing to do w/ selling yr handjob at the /Home Offise].
drifting thoz wanky justificasions.
So Anyway. This is a pm abut all the backpayment im owed. & [why this] iznt
The truble w/ late Moneys/[acting trustfund sqwatters] - is, ye got too [subsistans/ ? / ] - ever aspyring wajeslaves –
So this is [/never/this is] a pm.
– [waere basiclly, y/] cathekted in the shobox like porno, & it all piles up & then theyl be sorry.
Ive finishd now.
Birmingham 198_?/1992/20__?
Khaled Hakim has returned to innovative poetry after almost two decades away. In the 1990’s he published sparingly and performed semi-improvisatory routines that had a passing acquaintance to David Antin's talk poems in their roots in minimalist and conceptual art. He disappeared before his final publications in the anthology Foil: Defining Poetry 1985-2000 had even come out. A book called Letters from the Takeaway is forthcoming, and The Routines: 1985-2000, is being prepared. khaledhakim.weebly.com/poetics
