Issue 21




excerpts from The Rapture of Eddy Daemon


Daniel Y. Harris





Decalogue 10



Eddy’s koine, axed from the lingua franca of banned,

regards both cleansed of history and rumored to have

history, finally anachronistic—Epistles unsent in lieu

of his lemonparty. Don’t dare to spin the bottle: femurs

turning into melted cheese wear a human lung as a hat.

To lymtudor is to smoke human flesh—Eddy smokes

his digi pepper jack, redacted from her healthy lungs.

Who her? She, the last one devoted to his sacred-empty.

Yell, hail instead: no, yell out cephalapluering. Heart

before the Priory of Daemon. Heart before the murmurs

of Eddy’s autofiction. Heart, heart, heart to deca minus

one. Pick one: two graven or eight stealing T.S. Eliot’s

theft. Coda—the Greek δέκα failsbetter as a kilogram

force, so outdated and romanticized as to be illegal. 




Mali T624GPU



El dū yahwī aba’ôt, or Eddy Daemon causes to be a host

of hash busters to hush jumbotrons, as obsolete as heavenly

armies. When did the High Priest in the Holy of Holies die?

Mercy-erased, hymn-skinned, rapture-wanked as a hyperion

to a satyr ruins the pure contempt of his love. Origins betray

the hosted exchange, hot buffers the Kenite Exchange’s next

hop as packet hop and stele router gagging on lidded width.

Listen to pinpricks of the tetragrammaton’s arduity. Eddy

bleeds from the ears. Bad gaming noob-target for easy kills,

remembers members of the meme written on Elephantine

Papyri and recycled Mali-T624GPU as clichéd as hotshot

plagiarism. Perfect delivery: embed—Yesha’yahuYahu

saves the saved billions. If illions rise without b, compress

Eddy’s tetra, tri, di and hen into vision or audition’s joke. 




ISBN 978-0-9883713-4-7



Fine, shaken or tilted, sub-class granular, finer in clumps

when flowing coarser except when wet as household dust

or powdered sugar—Eddy’s top layer is a lunar regolith.

His lithos of the blank empty empties here in situ, sight

unseen and sight of the toner, applied to skin and tones

of gravel and sand. Eddy’s bulk behavior causes cause

to clump like powder. Late and little inertia tend to go

with the flow, in nose and sinus, back to lungs to expel

him as miner’s phthisis, or grinder’s asthma or potter’s

rot from chronic, simple silicosis. Eddy’s a mudstone

of rare argillite, rarer nuff to burn acquisition’s more:

more and more paste: more and more gel in a human

spine, not flowing freely and certainly not au courant.

His confession is a bio-angle of repose as fragile tear. 




Sonnetto 154



Hecatombs of Exter late in delu(Zion): Cathars, Druze, Rose

Croix—staccato half-sentences enter his flesh as Greek Palin,

or if palingenesis demurred to Vishnu’s 10 in one carnations,

here in reach of Sonnetto’s 154 embedded empties of an Orc.

Eddy’s part fantasy race, part goblin, part crude orqindi: ogre

with pits for a frag-heart, broods to be born over again: reborn

as swylce gigantas þa wið gode wunnon. Eddy’s mannish: see,

he’s a mannish boy, a Neapolitan orco for empathy’s cleanup.

Forgive Eddy for being human. He may have spread his proto

over a fit older than extant, bears pious nothing from nothing

in genius’ progeny fading into blood. Yes, he sees the book

of the dead—the book of “Daddy” matters in adapted forms,

left ur-attended in the fulfillment of debt. Eddy’s sons carry

his crucial bardo. Eddy’s father died later. He lives forever.  




Ratio 4:3



Eddy Parvenu betrays alterity—Eddy’s ethnos surpasses

his dyad, his theolatrous impulses bent into theomania,

reveals his disclosive nature to count the tears of a wife.

Coiled in the crux, Eddy ungifts the heart’s via negativa.

Es gibt, for now as hush of the tetralemic interpretation 

of maya and pittance-paid dearth of ardor: Eddy decants

his wares on the midden of rapture, spells out potpourri

of bleak and waits for his wife. His wife, his global girth

to stay foreclosure with latte foam, covets leisure’s aim

to truant the twitters of beat. Eddy lies: he’s chaperoned

by yelps strafing indulgence. One more autocrat demurs:

one more autocrat is led to necrosis and rhymes of a pars

pro toto. Please listen to Eddy cranked by idlers, pestled

into mock bankruptcy, tranquilized by trivia and uplifts. 










Daniel Y. Harris is the author of Esophagus Writ (with Rupert M. Loydell, The Knives Forks and Spoons Press, 2014), Hyperlinks of Anxiety (Cervena Barva Press, 2013), The New Arcana (with John Amen, NYQ Books, 2012), Paul Celan and the Messiah’s Broken Levered Tongue (with Adam Shechter, Cervena Barva Press, 2010; picked by The Jewish Forward as one of the 5 most important Jewish poetry books of 2010) and Unio Mystica (Cross-Cultural Communications, 2009).  Some of his poetry, experimental writing, art, and essays have been published in BlazeVOX, Denver Quarterly, European Judaism, Exquisite Corpse, The New York Quarterly, In Posse Review, The Pedestal Magazine, Poetry Magazine.com and Poetry Salzburg Review.  He is the Chairman of the Board of Directors of The New York Quarterly Foundation.  Daniel Y. Harris is online at DanielYHarris.com



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