Well, here’s a surprise: this is a blog entry.
I’ve just moved and am going through notebooks and many other things, sorting out my life in this new house, and I have rediscovered a blue notebook with the cover done up in a collage. Part of the text on the collage cover reads:
positive curvature, 1825
space is not
analytically logical
mathe
Space Reimagined
emerge illogica
“Bullshit anti-rhymes,” as Henry Mullwiler would label them. Here’s more, from the interior of the notebook:
Neutralizing Autumn
12/9/06
Rain in the forest.
Drained resources.
Sonorous caves, hidden deep
in Michigan, in humans.
Resorting to chronology,
folded gold hatches
under following stars.
Alchemists kill defenses.
We’ll breathe liberty at last.
Automatic Catapults
12/9/06
Mahogany
Ash. Skies crash
Sheets near razors
Blazing breathing
Sheets delighting
Exuberance
Overflow. Hit output.
End cares.
Mandatory casts.
Diners split skies
In end resorts.
High sheen
Efforts protract
Elegant sunlight
Settling on moons
Far removed.
Health crisis.
Desk drawers
Empty of form.
Morphed death
Leans into heart.
Heard again
First time
Telegrammatic.
Autofixation.
Deliver movement.
Ash rehashes
Components. Splice
Sluices. Sewage.
Hanged in barbed wire,
Blessed in excess.
Thank you Jesus.
No Acceptions
12/9/06
Mesmerized stillness.
Open season on ammunition.
Autumn atrophies
Stuck in stalls.
Automatic habits
Halt. Howl. Lower. Glow.
Leering chilled ice warlocks
Watch roads. Carved totems
Decorate tomorrow’s roads.
Karl Rove withers away.
Too much hoarding.
Halt! Stopping points
Hold force.
Ask Ahimsa.
Question and answer
Hallway cosmologies.
Dare approach.
Communists mate.
Socialists hatch.
Gold harms.
Our paper notes burn war.
War defuncts and defaults
Our stubborn dead.
No deal. Leaders been stealing.
Hell now.
Hell has human rulers.
Telemetric Inflection
12/11/06 & 12/13/06
Leafless aluminum spires
painted on card backs
held in hands, pinned
in boxes of heavy metal.
Extinction blooms.
Vehicles boom across city streets,
leave trails among houses,
disassemble precepts. Hold.
Scaffolding lines climb to thousand story floors,
prick the night’s stars, pull
pills from the medicine cabinet.
My solitude boxes us out from each other.
Hadn’t expected to have another
of these episodes. DVDs collect
on the shelves, swear straight lines
to episodes. Humorous, perhaps.
It’s like that
in super market lines,
in rituals broken
that I don’t even know.
To talk about money now
is to talk about being powerless.
They own all the shows
in their outside world.
Inside December, I wonder
what this rich collision
needs to speak.
Burn and pull
The moon places her cards,
believes hearts carry wilderness.
Moons above the forest.
Deeper ripenings take place
inside frenetics. Mildewed webs
sharpen in dawn light,
purchase us movement and time.
Down here, cuts hasten our senses.
Deliver music, misuse inches, storms.
Together we will collect the dawn.
Misheard, shaped to fragmentary music,
our tempera