To Dr. Rudolf J. Siebert and his life-long inspiring scholarship.

“Every work of art is an uncommitted crime” – Theodor Adorno
“The owl of Minerva spreads its wings only with the falling of the dusk.” G. W. F. Hegel

bl[e]a[c]k ROSE gore hurls
caught in Mind’s Eye Predator
poppies fingerprints on a touch-screen,
vile toy hooked on the fisherman’s pole:
the war-end-game
remotely strikes fire shattering
luster of one more innocent play,
a wing shadow passing dessert
over child’s bloody eyes
gasping in a splash of blood–
burns crushing in an absence of the collapsed drone last cry;
lost limb leg and splintered arm,
shrapnel seeds spread tailing the Phantom Ray–
Angel’s Gorgon Stare falling of the dusk:
but no Word shines
no Word is to be heard,
no Word is life,
no light to illuminate this matter dark;
stuck on a pin tip of the magnetic needle split spin
Angel’s diving shriek cracks sinking aerial compass mum
aimed straight,
returning back
before Word, beneath crust,
clad in Iron Eater
dormant in Earth’s mantle zero-hour,
covert flattened stealthy Angel
with risen wings still fettered to the Dragon Eye–
silent is the hemorrhaged image
dripping plasma over Blue Devil Blimp tint
escaping photons on one-on-one-touch-end-er’s-war-game screen
there is just a pile of colors presence
bunk is History
the red stained silicon curtain turning pitch burnt dark

James Jeffrey: Ex-Drone operator:

John 1-5: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. . .He was in the beginning with God. . . in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. . . . The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”

“There is a painting by Klee called Angelus Novus. It shows an angel who seems about to move away from something he stares at. His eyes are wide, his mouth is open, his wings are spread. This is how the angel of history must look. His face is turned toward the past. Where a chain of events appears before us, he sees on single catastrophe, which keeps piling wreckage upon wreckage and hurls it at his feet. The angel would like to stay, awaken the dead, and make whole what has been smashed. But a storm is blowing from Paradise and has got caught in his wings; it is so strong that the angel can no longer close them. This storm drives him irresistibly into the future to which his back is turned, while the pile of debris before him grows toward the sky. What we call progress is this storm.”

from Walter Benjamin 1940 work, “On the Concept of History,Gesammelte Schriften I, 691-704. SuhrkampVerlag. Frankfurt am Main, 1974. Translation: Harry Zohn, from Walter Benjamin, Selected Writings, Vol. 4: 1938-1940 (Cambridge: Harvard University Pres, 2003), 392-93. Sholem’s poem on the Klee painting was written for Benjamin’s twenty-ninth birthday — July 15, 1921. Sieburth’s translation is from Gershon Scholem, The Fulnness of Time: Poems (Jerusalem: Ibis Editions, 2003)

Paul Klee, "Angelus Novus," 1920

"The Angel of History: Poppy and Memory": Anselm Kiefer

Gorgon Stare:

Mind’s Eye developing technology:

More about drones:,+rudolf+siebert&source=bl&ots=88ziWG9_jp&sig=0fZG_AZFhfqSr1JT2f1m5k2uGk8&hl=en&sa=X&ei=oa5eUNSjD8KA2gWUwoCIDQ&ved=0CEUQ6AEwBQ#v=onepage&q=Angelus%20Novus%2C%20rudolf%20siebert&f=false

“On the Concept of the History,” Walter Benjamin, Copy Left translation:


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