"...And I wanted that heat so bad
I could taste the fire on your breath
and I wanted in your storm so bad
I could taste the lightning on your breath
I watched you hold the sun in your arms while he bled to death
he grew so pale next to you
the world is so pale next to you
your hair is coxcomb red your eyes are viper black
you said every road is a good road
between the next road and your last road
every love is your best love and every love is your last love
and every kiss is a goodbye..."
excerpts from Coxcomb Red by Jason Molina
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Some notes on the hum of the mind
Endlessly these eddies curl and compact and stretch out. Dissipate. Arise. Morph.
The mind, if this is where such things take place, is really a kind of fluid atmosphere, driven as much by chaos as by anything else. Sanity in this way could be seen as a kind of order, however brief. An island of negentropy. Insanity the opposite. And myriad kinds of intermediate stages existing not long enough to even be recognized.
It is as possible to observe this as it is possible a body of water doing the same thing.
Is the observation of one's own mind itself a kind of eddy? A brief gathering of substrate (which is an absurd, but convenient, way of speaking because thoughts and mental projections are not measurable) in the flow?
What is it that allows for this to happen? Who is it that can conjure?
Does the flow in which I exist flow into you?
It must.
The mind, if this is where such things take place, is really a kind of fluid atmosphere, driven as much by chaos as by anything else. Sanity in this way could be seen as a kind of order, however brief. An island of negentropy. Insanity the opposite. And myriad kinds of intermediate stages existing not long enough to even be recognized.
It is as possible to observe this as it is possible a body of water doing the same thing.
Is the observation of one's own mind itself a kind of eddy? A brief gathering of substrate (which is an absurd, but convenient, way of speaking because thoughts and mental projections are not measurable) in the flow?
What is it that allows for this to happen? Who is it that can conjure?
Does the flow in which I exist flow into you?
It must.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
trestles
light river skin
swallows move incessantly between the swaying cottonwoods
what could i have said?
------
sweat becomes a manner of speaking.
speaking is a palpitating creation always just formed, forming.
------
"notes for future use"
- mouth as ampullae of Lorenzini
- mouth as Da Vinci's reputed circle
- body as palmate (over your palmate body chivalry goes out the window)
- body as an espalier
------
it has been argued (Scarry, E.) that we want to replicate what we find beautiful. that this, in fact, makes us better, more capable of spontaneously being just, loving, kind creatures.
take my hand. let's go to bed right now.
------
light river skin
a nameless place.
laughter. curled desire and an ease that didn't come easy. until it did.
what could i have said?
swallows move incessantly between the swaying cottonwoods
what could i have said?
------
sweat becomes a manner of speaking.
speaking is a palpitating creation always just formed, forming.
------
"notes for future use"
- mouth as ampullae of Lorenzini
- mouth as Da Vinci's reputed circle
- body as palmate (over your palmate body chivalry goes out the window)
- body as an espalier
------
it has been argued (Scarry, E.) that we want to replicate what we find beautiful. that this, in fact, makes us better, more capable of spontaneously being just, loving, kind creatures.
take my hand. let's go to bed right now.
------
light river skin
a nameless place.
laughter. curled desire and an ease that didn't come easy. until it did.
what could i have said?
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