not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Saturday, September 29, 2012


it is incredible that you don't see me.  i am ripping into existence right now! i am a fucking super nova right there in your living room! your carpet tears open, your tv tables slip in!  don't you feel my tearing through the veil? don't you feel my stepping forth in terrible and awesome temporary being?  i am a blip in time.  i am the first, the second, the infinite coming!  i am here, goddammit!  i am here! - a toothpick in the stacks))))

Friday, September 28, 2012

birth place

what does it mean to be from here

it means this, this topography, this incivility, this grit and wonder has an impact upon the very topography of our souls.  it speaks to us in a voice from before voice and tells us how to eat, how to seek shelter, the necessity of both, and how to love - the necessity of this too.  it reminds us always that we will die, while encouraging our footsteps in keeping inside survival.  it is deeper than a mask to self or a reflection.  it is deeper than skin, than bone.  it is the air or idea around which bone forms.

we are all, in one way or another, from this place.

Thursday, September 27, 2012

canadian love song

Your body's a small word with many meanings.
Love. If. Yes. But. Death.
Surely I will love you a little while,
perhaps as long as I have breath.

December is thirteen months long,
July's one afternoon; therefore,
lovers must outwit wool,
learn how to puncture fur.

To my love's bed, to keep him warm,
I'll carry wrapped and heated stones.
That which is comfort to the flesh
is sometimes torture to the bones.

Alden Nowlan

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

i can not help but rejoice in the superflous splash of autumn

 for the dry heels of winter are waiting in the wings

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Monday, September 17, 2012

Friday, September 14, 2012


from the other world

into the new dream


Monday, September 10, 2012

trying to pray

Trying To Pray by James Wright
This time, I have left my body behind me, crying
In its dark thorns.
There are good things in this world.
It is dusk.
It is the good darkness
Of women's hands that touch loaves.
The spirit of a tree begins to move.
I touch leaves.
I close my eyes and think of water

Friday, September 7, 2012

my cat and i discuss

the future

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

existence, part ix (choice)

there is a great tension in life between polarities

 between which requires an act of bravery

to truly live (without control)

or not to truly live (seek control)

Saturday, September 1, 2012

investigation of self, xi: rudimentary

how few particulars are required to suggest any one person, either in description or in photograph?  what might this mean?

tell me.

(in this i mean to break through the body and beyond the body.  is this body not a veil?)