Saturday, August 12, 2017

I'm not afraid of much but cause and effect
Rejection
Acceptance
Other transitions from x to y
And the other axes
Because every line cuts
A wedge between one and two
Every gap is infinite
All space
And we            are infinite
Which is a kind of lack
Sans finality
Thus
 beginnings and endings
Are so strange

Before I was both one thing and another
I was
 chaos or darkness or the swirling cloud
Tovu vbohu
And just because someone said
It is good
Doesn't make it so
Even if they made it so
Still it also isn't
I hold in opposition
A kind of strength
A kind of weakness
A mind of self
A bind of impression
Behind a mask: another
The lips that kiss themselves
But can not divorce

Others lips are a treat
Silencing each and each
In the flood

Even the most high things
Could not undo creation
It spun
Before
And it spun hereafter

Look no further than the world to know where god has gone
Defeated by a greater power
Retreated from being

Do I too grow weary
Wary
With each thought
Am I
Driven back by my creations
Become death
How else could it have found me
But by my face
And hand

What should that hand hold
Which can undo all
Is love a potential thing
Can it be offered
Without acceptance
Or is it turned by the deflection into two
Or three
The signal pattern. Photon wave
Was it always what it becomes
Time working in all directions
Forget, and
Voila

It has ever been
Not been


Saturday, July 22, 2017

writing in water, evocation

I lie                                         between
                      don't we all                                                                              
memory                                    hope
                                                                           
                                                                                                                         
                         
                                                                                                   \/ocabunt
         we have impressed ourselves
                     in the rocks
                       and trees                                                                                   /\ocaverint

but can't resist

damnatio                         memoriae






                                                                        [nothing was here]





             edit

 make abridge
             over                                                                                      re
                                                                                                     vision                            /\/\
          troubled                                                                                                  visioun
                                                                                                          visio
We'll go down to the            river                                                                    videre
          go down           beautiful     the                                                               weid                          
                down       beautiful                                                                             wide
                              beautiful                                                                                river
                             river

We'll map the stones                                                                              and roots      stand      here
                                                                                                                on the riparian            and there
         return to the current                                      and                                    margins
     call it the same                                                                                                \/  /\
                                                                                                                       \/                   /\
name ourselves the same                                                                                         /\
                                     people                                                                               {[(birds)]}  /\

   All my ancestors                                                                                                  call
                                                                                                          have called            continue calling
drowned in the deeps  

          not me                                                                                                     vocaverant
                                                                                           vocant  
                                                                                            \/ocabant           /\/\
                                                                                             vocaverunt          
                                                between
                      don't we all          
memory                                    hope

                                                              {[(/\/\)]}

Wednesday, June 28, 2017

I still have love
although worn thin
stained in places
like the remains of an heirloom coat
I did not care for properly
or time worked its inevitable wonder
but this same object
is another object now
the luxury which warmed my grandmother
I carry as a handkerchief

recipe

none of these things are real
                                                of course
none of these                                           are
but I am                                                         anyway
in the kitchen
                             cooking
there is                                      an intermittent hiss
from the stove
where the water meets the blue and yellow flame
a scent too
from where I have piled lavender blossoms
to smolder
and the potatoes have boiled                                                  now
the pasta is still cold
a lemon is lonely on a board
yellower than the laminate counter
as yellow as the flames

I left it dirty         the board               wiped but unscrubbed
as though I were a cowboy
a cowboy    who                  zests               lemons
but             who is               to say            they didn't

Thursday, June 8, 2017

Sans

As a stream of pale yellow pressed out of me
I bent to inspect
And in the stream were old words 
Histories,
 reasons
Phrases of Fagles' Iliad
 Other canon crystals
With all their supposed import
Childhood conversations corrupted through cloning (dream repetition, bragged assertions)
So many loves felt intensely
And intentions I swore were digested
All and more
 wept away in urinary tears
  Blood would be cleaner

I have swallowed living rivers
But I can not hold them
Any more than the earth



Tuesday, June 6, 2017

Mourning coffee

This day              (time being a painted pony)
        Which goes without me
 and I            (And observation making it so)         were   
  / Wereday : a transmutable dayman,   
/And the words transform with the /apostrophe which are moons of the word  
/("We are" [but are we])
                    
doing well together 
                  (and would I do well to get her)
                           (Would she have me)
Having begun
        Or continued 
After a sleep
        (Where the sun dreams I cannot go)
And risen
                  (Despite old satan Xeno)
And walked on
               (I having marched in place and the 
                 Cosmos beneath me giving way)
And the diner sandwich
        (despite the ketchup <... in connemara>
   (I having asked for none and yet received)
     (Thus it is sacred ketchup. Dyed for me)
And the coffee
   ( come from the sweat of the earth )
     (Come From The Toil of 1000s)
       (Alchemy perfected at last)
        (Blood and Base made High)
And bus and train spun in my orbit
And I cometlike 
Stardust
Streetdust
Galactic (though my coffee was black)
               Traveler
                             Of
      *                 PHILADELPHIA
  wherein we orbit the Son of William Penn
The son being eternal (unto its end )
The penn being eternal (unto its end )
From planet NEast
To planet West

Until 
         In a moment (as all events)
         In an instant (though the coffee was brewed)
    Without warning (though inevitable to the eyes of history, as all tragedy)
   The coffee rebelled (retaining the homeopathic vibrations of exploited labor)
And traveled (in the way of capillary adhesion and cohesion)  (In the way of electric charge) (in the way of pressure dynamic) (in the way as scientists would say of "water is wet") (in the way of alchemical hermetic magnetic heat and cold) (in the way of ironic movement) (in the way of manifestation out of the infinite void og potential states)
From my mouth
To my nose

Whereon
In a sputtering snort
Was made a day
With me in it
And it was not good

Thursday, June 1, 2017

This is just unacceptable

Those plums
Were my breakfast
As you surmised

What the fuck dude
You need to move out