-Poetry is cipher the emptiness of the mind imagining The imaginings of the imagination shading and giving shape to outlines of smoke and breath Empty figures swirling into the forms of nothing nothing that is not and is Dissonance is truth as absence forms all presence and presence empties out This Theatre of Trope figurative misrepresentation of what is and is not there
-I dreamt of happiness in a smile a ring a life in the sweeping away of the dust that settles on eyelids the calming of the nightmare the pre-trembling of a house that falls the reification of breath as it becomes and animates the self in surrendering the solitary word leaving open the wounds of possibility surrendering the words of solitary imagination’s dreams and footfalls surrendering the mystical words of forgoten prayers and incantations
-Memories like fallen ash, fade the ideas we create of the life we lived. Nothing is real, every illusion an abstraction. Some creation of the imagination. Every point is then a momentof genesis. Life in its many colored panes represents nothing that is fixed. Everything. Waking, each, until there is no more consciousnessis the genesis of breath and life; memoryis where the imagination plays, and revisions visions. Propounding wandering of wonderings,as the dust, like fallen ash, dances in the wakingbreath of creation, imagination and abstraction.
Lost; all the words–syllables, every sound hollows; there was breath repeated,satiating the sting of life, was a rhythmic progressiondrawing out the silent thoughts, immutable transmutations,the pulsing of sustenance exhausted searching ofthe inconstant constancy, each sound swept silenteach sign left open, naked with each inscription meaningmeaning and meaning nothing
– It was before the revolution- the cycle of revolving, the revolution to the beginning. So then, what was the point? Before the revolution, we had not arrived at an end, had not returned to a beginning. We were static, as a point. Stasis as a pretended movement, available to eyes, and not bodies, a direction towards which we might move. So this was before the revolution. After the revolution; in the collapsing of a cycle of revolving, thus collapsing an ending into a beginning. Recidivist? So then, what was the point?
-I dreamt we had a conversation. Words between us, syllables interspersed between breaths in the space between the u and the i, and the ideas behind these signs. Signifiers signifying intent, between two signified signifiers. The words, the sounds, lose all breath, in the aftermath of waking. There was the attempt at meaning, at bridging the chasm, the universe between two consciousnesses, yours and possibly mine, or possibly just the one without sign.
-When no one is looking I believe in possibility and dreams when no one is looking, that they will not be snatched from my hand like the sparrow by the zen master Grasshopper, when no one is looking, in that moment of disregard the breath between breathing and being, the quick blink to wet the eyes the moistened tongue to mend parched and cracking lips the same which no longer sing the song of hope and merriment when no one is looking there’s a quiver the almost formed word, which might set the world ablaze when no one is looking, […]
– Objects in mirror may be further than they appear. There’s this mirror, permanently installed. It sits behind the swirls of dust which float around. All those little pieces from each shattered moment he wishes he could have saved, but simply managed to scoop up a handful of what now has become dust. Initially, the dust wasn’t dust. It still held a bit of sparkle, a bit of shine, a little bit of the magic of the moment, right before the shattering point. Now, it’s dust, but sometimes as it swirls in the small dark space, and when there’s a […]
-The breeze blowing against the trees, the overgrown bushes and the buildings. A frenetic waving of green. A ripple of colorful blotches, as life attempts to hold back the elements. The balcony swept by the breath of the earth in its rotation. The falling ash disintegrating before collapsing onto the concrete fixture of the balcony. Light pierces through the clouds, one solitary ray, having had the strength enough to unveil a patch of clouds. Things lost in the fire: two spiral notebooks filled with the confessions of a mind spiraling out of sense, three fine point pens-the ones responsible for […]
-The decentralizing force of socio economics. A pitfall. There are theories, beliefs, spiritual certainties-for some, stating that we are born connected, centrally and intrinsically bound to our humanity, to the state of our creation. This state becomes disrupted in our growing, our sprouting, our moving beyond gestation. This occurrence happens in nature all the time and thus we can compare the states of our beings to the change of a tree weighed down by the pull of gravity and the dearth of stone mitigating the fulfillment of its roots, leaving it to weaken its grasp on its dream and slanting […]