Surre thang

Belly

2009-07-09T09:26:00.002-05:00

cheap restaurant napkin
allowed folds dozens in layers
glowd morn on lip
hangs clouds belly slith'ring rolls
clear light on or out, millions

Right now

2009-06-19T12:30:00.001-05:00

da plants be real purple lush evergreen out ta window
now wid da pulsin stome busting o'head dem breathing

2009-05-28T02:25:00.001-05:00

OLD
GROWTH

2009-05-27T16:01:00.000-05:00

THUNDER
ROCK

wants

2009-05-05T23:01:00.003-05:00

i want people to send their resumes
and requests for recommendations to me
to faintly smell the wisps of hidden desperation
and the stink of feigned confidence in cover letters
to imagine the money these people
wish they were getting beneath me
to imagine me glancing over their petty papers
with vague attention
words here or there
hoping for some kind of impression

Sponge. Octopus. Poop.

2009-05-05T17:11:00.003-05:00

Sponge. Octopus. Poop.

Pale blue dot

2009-05-01T01:51:00.001-05:00

Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

- Carl Sagan

zburning tornado holds tommy guns

2009-04-22T03:30:00.006-05:00

zburning tornado holds tommy guns n n acid axe
you n me n dna on a pump car
where da oil? where can you take me
rigo-mo-tortoise clicks the corpse upright
i want to see the first new water collect
out the bone dry ground fade up/out
uhthe crack tooth sun dirt
tree leaves point me that way n say
no go that way and point that way
n then another n another wavn green
church pamphlets in sweat looeasyanna blood barn
all denture a clickn shot glass slamd down drippy
bloodyd on the tangld bank
known in da garden

Nice quote

2009-04-08T13:52:00.003-05:00

When you can't bear something but it goes on anyway, the person who survives isn't you anymore; you've changed and become someone else, a new person, the one who did bear it after all.

from Soon I Will Be Invincible by Austin Grossman

Meta thunk

2009-04-06T22:45:00.002-05:00

Ryan Manning and I fought to our metaphysical deaths.

& I could use good news.

and/or a job that allows me to start saving.

each life its own tangle

2009-03-25T16:10:00.004-05:00

each life its own tangle
caught knotted round
with every other one
that twisted mother scrambled
up her twisted son

Where the Wild Things Are

2009-03-23T16:24:00.001-05:00

Untitled at Dogmatika

2009-03-18T15:59:00.001-05:00

You can read a short poem I wrote at Dogmatika.

Where the Wild Things Are

2009-03-18T15:47:00.003-05:00

i read recently that roughly

2009-03-17T02:20:00.004-05:00

i read recently that roughly
every hundred years the day is
three milliseconds longer and that
when dinosaurs were still alive
they had 23 hours to eat, shit, fuck, kill, and die
someday far away from now
after the universe keeps expanding
faster time will stand still and
we will freeze: creatures
dependent on time for function
i read this

The Book of Disquiet: 390 & 391

2009-03-16T16:09:00.005-05:00

According to my bookmark... I guess I've been trying to hack my way through Pessoa's The Book of Disquiet for a year now. I might never have been so conflicted over an author. This might have something to do with the book being translated from Pessoa's original Portuguese... I might have a bias against translated works. I agree with him as often as I disagree. I enjoy his work (almost) as often as I find it incredibly pretentious and boring.

In item 390 in The Book of Disquiet (each excerpt or thought is numbered and they rarely refer or relate to each other, as far as I'm aware), Pessoa only has one sentence to share.

To know how to be superstitious is still one of the arts which, developed to perfection, distinguishes the superior man.

I don't know entirely if he condones superstition (which I don't), or condones knowing why people are superstitious. The true meaning may be lost in translation... I'm not sure right now.

In the very next item, number 391 (a much lengthier piece), he delves into ideas much more in line with my own.

Ever since I've been using my idle moments to observe and meditate, I've noticed that people don't agree or know the truth about anything that's of real importance in life or that would be useful for living it. The most exact science is mathematics, which lives in the cloister of its own laws and rules; when applied, yes, it elucidates other sciences, but it can elucidate only what they discover - it cannot help in the discovery. In the other sciences, the only sure and accepted facts are those that don't matter for life's supreme ends. Physics knows the expansion coefficient for iron, but it doesn't know the true mechanics of the world's composition.

(Something that may be unknowable to an organ as simple as the human mind.)

And the more we advance in what we'd like to know, the more we fall behind in what we do know.

Yes: the hydra of research science.

Metaphysics would seem to be the supreme guide, since it alone is concerned with ultimate truth and life's supreme ends, but it isn't even a scientific theory, just a pile of bricks that these or those hands form into awkward houses with no mortar holding them together.

Philosophers and (legitimate) religious founders (religions, universally it seems, tend to lose their intellectual/philosophical value from generation to generation, culminating in the form of militant followers and people unwilling to back up debate with reasoned thought) are the "brick pilers."

I've also noticed that the only difference between humans and animals is the way they deceive themselves and remain ignorant about the life they live. Animals don't know what they do: they're born, they grow up, they live and they die without thought, reflection or a real future.

Roughly true, it seems, thought I don't think it should be seen as a simply black and white statement: that humans are conscious of themselves, other organisms are not. It may be the case, but it's difficult to really tell for sure.

And how many men live differently from animals? We all sleep, and the only difference is in what we dream, and in the degree and quality of our dreaming. Perhaps death will awaken us, but we can't even be sure of that unless it's by faith (for which believing is having), by hope (for which wanting is possessing), or by charity (for which giving is receiving).

True: no one has ever come back from being truly dead, therefore I think the best evidence for what death will be like is what it was like before birth. We have all not existed before. Finally, to top off a fantastic entry:

It's raining on this cold and sad winter afternoon as if it had been raining, just as monotonously, since the first page of the world. It's raining, and as if the rain had made them hunch forward, my feelings lower their stupid gaze to the ground, where water flows and nourishes nothing, washes nothing, cheers up nothing. It's raining, and I suddenly feel the terrible weight of being an animal that doesn't know what it is, dreaming its thought and emotion, withdrawn into a spatial region of being as into a hovel, satisfied by a little heat as by an eternal truth.

The Nightmare people smell it

2009-03-13T05:48:00.003-05:00

The Nightmare people smell it. It's so stinking thick.

2009-03-11T05:12:00.002-05:00

"...everything what I think. Everything what I feel."

2009-03-02T03:36:00.001-06:00

a freight train i see on a flat panel screen

History will hunt you down

2009-02-28T12:04:00.000-06:00

they didn't really know what he was talking about at times, they were reacting to his inflection most of the time. And at one point Cornel West screamed, "HISTORY WILL HUNT YOU DOWN!" Referencing the economic depression and shit eventually happens no matter how awesome you think you are. And the woman was like, "Amen."

from noah-cicero.blogspot.com

head things

2009-02-25T02:51:00.005-06:00

vary flat cardboard boxes
size all over far colored
in a narrow space as mismatched
play cards what peel
out the cracks through
my brain almost flat almost 2d
pile up till we toss em out

Patience is the only thing I ever do I'm proud of

2009-02-18T02:11:00.006-06:00

Right now is about having a fireplace I can't put wood in. There's a thin tight coil that runs taught across where fire goes that glows volcano red when a current runs through. It has that smell when I hit the switch that tells me it doesn't work right and it sort of moans the way audio cassettes do when they're ready to snap off. That noise is also my bed when I roll out of it at 2:30 in the afternoon which'd put me on the un-vacuumed floor that is swamped with nice clothes that've been flattening for months on top of books I begin and forget. At 3:30 my face is greasing up the computer screen, I lean back. By 4:00 I'm back in and distracted doing things with digital razors and tape that used to get cool peoples' hands real dirty and a little sliced up. Patience is the only thing I ever do I'm proud of. By 2:30 in the morning I'm trying to get paid, writing things like this and getting worse at pretending to want to reply at real people. I have an arm that grows back.

the the the the the the the the

2009-02-16T02:45:00.005-06:00

the monster is flat
the forest is all around us
there is nothing on the planet
beside the forest or
the monster all around us
when we're dead we are
in the monster and then
in the forest
which surrounds the monster
a man and his jungle
helpess in drink

2009-02-13T01:36:00.002-06:00

if i write
"
a monster in the dark forest
"
what
do you see

2009-02-09T03:23:00.002-06:00

someone made me a wikipedia page / on it is one of those death sections / in which it says / not dead yet