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.

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

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.