Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Raindrops
I have said, again and again, that paths are never fixed, like rivers. Rivers change their courses all the time, with each sip of tea that you take, there, here. I have said, time and again, that real answers are incomplete ones, unfinished, and always needing work. Otherwise, they would all be lies, flat lies. Have I stressed, over and over, the importance and the difficulty of solitude, of remaining aloof enough so that you can exist, regardless of whether people see you or not.
Elemental
Rainfall, silence, I cannot sleep
Poetry, there is too much poetry in this world
Sleepless poems and dry throats
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
My Refuge
Gutenberg said: "I am too harsh, too harsh in a world that is already too harsh."
A deep hole only deepens, and a blue flower only becomes bluer.
A deep hole only deepens, and a blue flower only becomes bluer.
The laundry bag is my refuge.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Everyone Is Floating
Idioms elude me. Idioms, as in the basic rules of speech and conduct in human society. I never know how to smile.
Details fly away like birds. Roots turn into clouds, but fail to precipitate: If there is no gravity, the atmosphere evaporates. If g=0, then cantbreath/e <>
I am thinking of the impossible scenario, in which people and houses, flora and fauna, soil and lakes, start floating upward, with much serenity as violence, into the sky. But if I am floating, too, then I will never know that the whole world was also floating.
I am a bad passenger, questioning the integrity of my own vehicle.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Night
I have been tired for a day and a half, and now I have stuffed myself, with jam tomato juice jambon lime half-moons curry mango mutton bread yogurt bread salad oil tea water air the sky the universe the sun and night. Fountains rise and fall in the dark, and you, light-eyed but deep in the shadows, are waving to a group of squirrels who have appeared on the surface of the moon.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Words
Words, you never see me pass through life
With your cruel aftertaste, oh words
Thinking about you
Worrying that you might one day finally suffocate me
With your cruel aftertaste, oh words
You completely defy the mirror's attempts to intervene
And defy the reader's flaying arms
My nose does not smell you, words
Even when you are there, and are burning like incense
So I breathe you in and out, through my ears
As if each of you were a song, a serenade
Undecidability
Laisse-moi tranquille, je suis bovin.
Je mastique, et mastique encore.
I have forgotten how to swallow.
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