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June 2004
 06.30.2004 |
I started to roll-up my sleeve, but there was no sleeve to roll
I started to say something true, but the world had changed
Gliding over the coral labyrinth a metallic shoal vellicates
You pluck the twitching memory from a luminous stream
| 06.29.2004 |
Because how experiences are exchanged evolves, experience evolves
Because how experiences are exchanged evolves, the world changes
Modern evolution in how experience is exchanged is all technological
I don't want to exchange content, I want to savor experience
A mouth passes on experience; content is ubiquitous
After experience exchange by-passed the mouth, the death of the soul
Reality's encyclopedia is fact-checked by experience
Content never digresses, never includes, cannot respond
I want amazement, late light, plums, mint time, the art of the cello
Still, one does foolish private things; one entire year no shoes, just sandals
| 06.28.2004 |
Make It New: Implicate form in order to freshly contemplate
The Language Project: Implicate form in order to freely contemplate
Music & Wine: Moderoso andallegro semplinuto prosecco non stoppo! Presto!
Nature: Bird song outdoors inbetween the movements, sweetly raucous
| 06.27.2004 |
Windows open, doors too, Beethoven E Flat Septet, death, summer in trees
Each owns whatever comes to mind: a father w/kids, a home w/out context
We stay home wanting one plot from three discrete lives
And what about the absence, the one who's finished but not over
What makes a life's story? Or, really, its countless ambient stories?
Time's heterogeneous, and we're wedded to time that stays in mind
The moment you decide not to care about something is never final
Patience with raw presence is rare, and taxes the most trenchant faith
| 06.26.2004 |
I've lived mine and observed yours, I'm still clueless about youth
Duration makes us do a lot of crazy things
During the night the bite itched its way into a bump
Though always tired, he had to work at falling and staying asleep
A car upside down in the fast lane slowed midnight traffic
I get back you're asleep, toward dawn I dream someone falls from the sky
You can't fall asleep without opening the mind to time
You can't start a pearl without a grain of sand
The continuing unrest finds its way into your dreams
For the mind, sleep's a way to close the gap between present and past
Similarities & sets and dreams & rhymes pose questions about time
The dreamy way you blend in and why that bothers you
Face it, you haven't amounted to anything, and won't
Prayer provides alliance with power to which a liege can say anything
If everything you prayed for happened, what a nightmare
Sometimes, only the clock watches you, and God's frayed image smirks
| 06.25.2004 |
Unchanged beauty, immaterial beauty, imageless beauty—the Good?
We fall into a dark cave with the ancient, fat philosopher
The difference between looking and watching stems from the need
You may watch silence; you can taste and see
We are a community of lookers, not a community of listeners
The image bludgeons the nuance of telling
An interlude of graduated meditation readies us for stories
A voice-over said, The secret of beauty flees, then stopped
We let the camera show us truth, surrendering to the apparatus
Clustered and waiting to present themselves before the lens
She stiffens, he stiffens—there's no avoiding it now
Not with the lights off, abstraction takes the fun out of it
She reels in thoughts from streaming perceptions
A slip of the tongue occurs everyday of everyday life
A spectrum of sexual perception ripples the stream of consciousness
Eros speeds the propagation of pretext and spent promise
What was I then? This old photo's flesh, or the relished dreams?
That winter day I wept and walked past All Souls Parrish
I leaked a lot of snot and cried tons of tears
Wiggle & nibble, suck & spit—polymorphous pleasures if you will
| 06.24.2004 |
He never forgot Kubla Kahn over-spilling the mind's young serrations
In the teeth and eyes of mindfulness, life is embodied
Want unavoidable; evil unavoidable; death unavoidable; beauty undeniable
Time nibbles the frame; time nibbles the soul; time sees all, knows nothing
| 06.22.2004 |
You know, he said, memory's not what it used to be
Many seasons, much amusement—in retrospect, everything's so peaceful
We grope our way through with no story
It may be the most honest, but it's lonely
You know how you trick yourself, she said
It got so I thought I was cured, so I cut back and got in trouble
Human Fate: Night prepares something more truthful than yesterday
The sound of a skull slamming against a wall shattered his dream
Afterward you lie on your back asleep
It's hard to try, my heart's not in it
The way he said it—we were all laughing—suicide did seem a choice
One of these days you'll regret your attitude toward God
New despair: This world, and only appetite to keep us going
Old despair: This world, and only appetite to keep us going
| 06.21.2004 |
Summer: Complete freedom would be no past to know
Loss of innocence was not discovering sex, but remembering bliss
| 06.20.2004 |
The present never invites you back again
At dawn, I listened in between chirping finches and a mourning dove
Between waking birds and new gray light, delicate sleep
In this dawn-shaped stream, the beautiful sands of time slide by
06.19.2004
Whatever it contains, significant art affirms individual experience
Art originates in private amazement at a world's existence
The puzzle of the good is always news and always good
The shock of the new is to know the old lives as us now
06.18.2004
Every word arrives proclaiming shape, but hangs on as a shape shifter
The more surprising form's affirmation, the more we taste fate's blood
Sometimes there's more risk in thinking than in not thinking
Why we suffer: Life is essentially formal, time, in essence, chaotic
06.17.2004
Dusk displays the many products of mid-summer light
Too bad about darkness, left the difficult beauties . . . and yet
Create a response to form presented visually as connected surprises
"Art asserts that nothing is banal" does not equal "Everything matters"
| 06.16.2004 |
The Problem: Time tries to turn all the good lines into beautiful lines
Beauty is truth, truth beauty; it's all ya know, all ya need t'know—Keats
Disguised as the ocean, these waves keep gabbing full tilt
The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea. Epi oinopa ponton—Joyce
| 06.15.2004 |
It was a different kind of fun in a different time of life
He wanted to love run-of-the-mill goodness, but it raised questions
Happiness, the everyday kind, in the cheap seats under blue sky
An angst fetish, a distrust of roses, and those kinky obsessions
Whoever's calling the shots oughta remember what hovers over us
When the philosophers arrived, waving, the mood turned hopeless
Dwindled mumble in prayers and kisses—these lives are all akimbo
Meaty memory fills ghost-light brushed into awful corners
Glottal stops were inserted to assuage her slavish desire
Torqued enigmas achieved critical mass circling over the bed
| 06.14.2004 |
Often forgotten but never lost, being is parsed by time
Thought forgets and loses, being's at home come what may
Thought works between being and time, enables one to know the other
Thought thinks it thinks the real when it's only thinking the thought
Lost in thought and dreaming are possible modes of redemption
Lost in space and lost in time and lost in thought are three ways
Enough already, the palm at the end of the mind signals halt
We would have arrived at ______, but the music ran out of gas
I want to disappear; I want to get lonely inside gone-awayness
I wanna touch the softest skin on me to the softest skin on you
| 06.13.2004 |
The art of speech is needed to alter fate
Shared information is not the same as shared thought
She never forgot the first time she dreamed in Spanish
Every door in the town was red, everything else the same as the real
Time wears on language—generations need new translations of the old
A song is self-renewing in a soul—always fresh as running water
06.12.2004
The days have entered the phase of winged feet
Early evenings certain grassy hills become reclining nudes
Destined for oblivion, daylight booms past like boxcars
Blood blossoms on white fabric; a grammar of the moon is in women
| 06.11.2004 |
He was not the solution to our problem, he was the problem
Two days of lying in state; a career of lying for hate
| 06.10.2004 |
Melody uses mind to enter the world and change time
Language will never be abandoned, but every day its content is
Does thinking turn to words? Honestly, what do words speak for?
Why does it feel as if "reality" precedes thinking?
If I speak for myself, how does meaning outlive me?
To enter my desire before language penetrated me
| 06.09.2004 |
The cult of false talk leavens desire
Lost illusions return in new baggage
A continuous haze of staged events ameliorates our loss
Cubicle: theory of identical datasets (test patterns, etc.) frames you
Realism: modern armor against imagination's weapons cache
Realism: sextant, catapult, scythe, pocket-watch, typewriter
Hands: knead dough, sew button, milk cow, wipe ass, make change
Workers: Pete peeled potatoes; Pat practiced piano
The sound of the word in the mind is nothing like its sound on the tongue
He closed the book, made coffee, and walked out into the original
| 06.08.2004 |
Words are furniture in the mind
Lumber lurched as the temblor intensified
With shape you may kill surprise, or you may feed it
She came in closed the door sat down undid her shoes and swore
| 06.07.2004 |
As with many scoundrels, his death swells misperception to hagiography
Let's repeat what's been said: the dispirited see what they want to
| 06.06.2004 |
A river is a way to go with the flow and leave things behind
A river always takes the path of least resistance, never has to find itself
The river wants to be the object of desire, but always slips away
An experience (love for example) not a place, that's my river
"Hold that thought"—she said, looking off; she enjoyed her sarcasm
River slips through landscape here; thought slips through language there
Don't lump the 10,000 things together—think 1 + 1 + 1, etc., like a river
If that's true, then explain to me the "pointillist water"
I know you so well I don't need to understand your talk
Emptying and filling are the same for it; we drink from it; we drown in it
| 06.05.2004 |
In the 8 p.m. light he said: "If summer and women aren't joy, what is?"
Reluctant, he eventually accepted the gifts in things inscrutable
Time: Me; the river; sky river falls from; hills river runs from; me; the river
When is a river like a pilgrim? When it wanders from its channel whelmed
| 06.04.2004 |
Some beauty does not end when other beauty ends
Star light requires time, destined hither & yon
Love: What do I mean Mother, thought as you think me?
Thought: Only afterward do words begin to be what they will be
| 06.03.2004 |
Tongue fossicks in the fossa, licks lip, niggles nipple
The periphery and the unconscious are essential to focus
If some is there, in it, how? From out of what? A the?
Do it, from here to there, or in and out, up then down, but not now
| 06.02.2004 |
Prelasparian: man and woman being messy and enjoying it
Oh boy! Oh heck! Oh jeez! History's not over yet Mr. Fukuyama
You can hear how birds enjoy their "birdness"—until you sing the blues
Mirrors are lonely and truthful and lack all originality
| 06.01.2004 |
Am I creating, or does stuff just take place?
Mr. Plato, is existence an example, or the genuine thing?
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