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| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/25/2009 12:24:56 AM | Art may be found 'wear' you hang your hat, either on your head or where the
peg is situated on the wall.
The quest for the perfect flower.
The odor was a lie. The quest for the perfect flower is all that is true. In
bloom and during the weaving time of ants it is their communion, suggestive,
rhythmic, overtly licking, in various tempii.
This is a system for rising and for falling and for something in between.
This is a life for appearing and separating, for dark and cool outpourings
of thunderstorms from the west. These are the upwellings of brisk side
breezes from inside the dark rising to the west. It boils the clouds, the
sky, and nothing is left unmoved. Even the surface of the water in rapid
descent from canyon to canyon wall is shimmering. It whips the willows in
arcs making them double back down to the earth. They do not snap but whip
about shaking free riders away to the next thicket to the east. They are as
supple as suckers found on sand bars in rivers of June floods
These particles, patterned after sand, resemble oblong shapes, shifting,
ahead of this makeshift, house beneath the dunes. The telegraph poles are
there above the dunes blown away and dispersed from the ancient lake. The
windows and the roof are still green shingles. She lives here again fishing
when the lake is full, even when the winds do not let up. These shores...
Is this her heart, her centre, her frame, her Mount Resplendent?
Now that we have met this time these jaws function to hold together these
kingfisher wings, these lips clenched against mine. Wet against the warmth
of spring sunshine. I am her first visitor.... | |
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| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/25/2009 12:29:13 AM | Art may be found 'wear' you hang your hat, either on your head or where the
peg is situated on the wall.
The quest for the perfect flower.
The odor was a lie. The quest for the perfect flower is all that is true. In
bloom and during the weaving time of ants it is their communion, suggestive,
rhythmic, overtly licking, in various tempii.
This is a system for rising and for falling and for something in between.
This is a life for appearing and separating, for dark and cool outpourings
of thunderstorms from the west. These are the upwellings of brisk side
breezes from inside the dark rising to the west. It boils the clouds, the
sky, and nothing is left unmoved. Even the surface of the water in rapid
descent from canyon to canyon wall is shimmering. It whips the willows in
arcs making them double back down to the earth. They do not snap but whip
about shaking free riders away to the next thicket to the east. They are as
supple as suckers found on sand bars in rivers of June floods
These particles, patterned after sand, resemble oblong shapes, shifting,
ahead of this makeshift, house beneath the dunes. The telegraph poles are
there above the dunes blown away and dispersed from the ancient lake. The
windows and the roof are still green shingles. She lives here again fishing
when the lake is full, even when the winds do not let up. These shores...
Is this her heart, her centre, her frame, her Mount Resplendent?
Now that we have met this time these jaws function to hold together these
kingfisher wings, these lips clenched against mine. Wet against the warmth
of spring sunshine. I am her first visitor.... | |
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| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/25/2009 9:13:22 AM |
The quest for the perfect flower.
The odor was a lie. The quest for the perfect flower is all that is true. In
bloom and during the weaving time of ants it is their communion, suggestive,
rhythmic, overtly licking, in various tempii.
This is a system for rising and for falling and for something in between.
This is a life for appearing and separating, for dark and cool outpourings
of thunderstorms from the west. These are the upwellings of brisk side
breezes from inside the dark rising to the west. It boils the clouds, the
sky, and nothing is left unmoved. Even the surface of the water in rapid
descent from canyon to canyon wall is shimmering. It whips the willows in
arcs making them double back down to the earth. They do not snap but whip
about shaking free riders away to the next thicket to the east. They are as
supple as suckers found on sand bars in rivers of June floods
and the rest of this has your own very distinct metaphysical voice. I wonder why, as has happened before, you posted it twice? | |
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| Buy a ticket!
Posted: 8/25/2009 7:44:37 PM | | I was on a shaky internet connection. And it seems not to indicate that the message was received or sent. Weird. | |
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| Economics
Posted: 9/6/2009 7:54:21 AM | I had a dream
and I had a dollar.
The problem was to spend the one
without losing the other. | |
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| Economics
Posted: 9/7/2009 7:46:59 PM | I had a magnificent sweater
for the first five seconds
nirvana, the coffee I slurped
blotched the smug satisfaction. | |
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| Economics
Posted: 9/7/2009 9:08:45 PM | >Masculine hardness cannot be moved<
There is no ancient Greek word for you, Metaphaizakl. One would call you warrior. War is
the hard, inflexible, impenetrable, brazen, brash reality of facts
themselves, not men. Men are not facts they are constructions of womens
minds, thus warrior 'ants'. They have the equivalent of biting, piercing, sucking
mouthparts, but tend to social by nature. But really! "Masculine hardness
cannot be moved". I like that. So masculinity has some other attributes
besides what it is. Ha! well I would like a woman to prove that! The first
thing men learn about the opposite [female principle] is that they make the
decisions. Every decision a man can make is vetoed by her. Why are men so
lean? They are built that way so they can take action quickly at woman's
bequest, at her call. Women want the daring, the hardest son of harder. Why
are women less lean? Full moon, round apples....They do not have to take
action as quickly and are more capable of weathering the storm outside when
rations are slim. Men are expendible, they go on warring and raiding parties
to defend the homelands of the savanna tribal group, spearing anything in
site; it is an honour to die heroically in battle. Only one man is required
to father children of fifty women. When a man tires of the hunt and the
raiding party, then he marries and settles down, and tells stories during the
long winter.
Women use opinion and silence to fight with. That is their hardness. And men
run to war for their sake.
Why masculine hardness can be moved I say. It can be moved by the spear.
Rended like paper. His hardness he can bleed till the heart stops, like a
jack hammer in concrete his heart can be broken and dismantled and drained.
Why masculine hardness is nothing against a javelin tip assualts of verbal
abuse and insults, or an arrow piercing the breast of his purity of which is
to will one thing he calls out as 'the purity of the beautiful', to sacrifice all he has for
the beautiful woman of his sight. The horn of the antelope can pierce that
hardness too, throwing 'el toreador for a fatal summersault. The bronc
rider thrown off the saddle-less horse has to meet an even harder foe than
man: the dirt, and mud and so on, and scorn. There is nothing harder and
sharper than the tools of rejection. For killing by hand alone is a form of
participation in beauty. To be given the gift of a swift dispatch rather
than to face the scorn of a failed coup d'etat. Obsidian knives are a
thousand times more sharp than the best Swedish stee: the former leave no tears
nor any incision. Man has a set of incisors but uses them no longer, having
invented sharpness, perfected it actually to pierce hardness. No, a man
when he loses his hardness, and is no longer capable of sharpness and an of
an unmoving nature settles down and marries and has children to make him
happy the rest of his days; usually by the longest winter of the father's
story telling, when his father no longer even hunts except in summer with
all the tribe. When the younger man's father has most of his stories fresh
in his mind....
Who moves masculine hardness? Other men and natural predators like the
Grizzly bear [Ursus horridus] and certain plants like Opolopanax horridus,
the devils club | |
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| Economics
Posted: 9/7/2009 9:26:12 PM | What is the greater feat?
Willing killing
Rants against women
Or the fierce guardianship
raising individual family within economic insanity
the hills, the tremendous mountains
do not stop good men from the pain of caring.
Men at their best are stalwart evergreens
Splendid, caressed by the full moon's light
Silhouetted eerily, gleefully with panache
against the sky. | |
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| Economics
Posted: 9/7/2009 9:42:45 PM | Soc. says long ago that a body without organs was created when Gaia and the
universe was near completion:
Socrates: ...because the living being had no need of eyes when there was
nothing remaining outside him to be seen; nor of ears when there was
nothing to be heard; and there was no surrounding atmosphere to be breathed;
nor would there have been any use of organs by the help of which he might
receive his food or get rid of what he had already digested, since there was
nothing which went from him or came into him: for there was nothing beside
him. Of design he was created thus, his own waste providing his own food,
and all that he did or suffered taking place in and by himself; for the
Creator conceived that a being which was self-sufficient would be far more
excellent than one which lacked anything. [Timaeus, 34a | |
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| Economics
Posted: 9/7/2009 9:53:01 PM | Socrates was also born
perfect, you were born perfect...ly
from the womb to the air you now breathe.
Life allows rumination, does not allow wallowing
Enters spacious realms then closes with strict definition.
Stare into any distance a voice will inform you...
join the tribe. | |
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| Economics
Posted: 9/8/2009 4:35:14 AM | Bravo, most especially for
the hills, the tremendous mountains
do not stop good men from the pain of caring.
"The pain of caring", yes and the perhaps greater, though less visible pain of NOT caring or of refusing to. | |
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| Economics
Posted: 9/8/2009 11:32:51 PM | why would re-caring involve pain?
caring is an interesting episode, one which forms in itself 'solicitude': solicitude is actually a 'seeking' out of
that which 'resembles' and 'ramifies'
in any organic 'sense' | |
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| Economics
Posted: 9/9/2009 9:06:46 PM | | Caring is black, then possibly white. You either care or you don't. But if you do... life takes on a shining that is absent when you do not care. Amen. | |
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| Economics
Posted: 9/9/2009 10:25:22 PM | There is nothing in this world that is entirely black or white, except blindness (black) and the sudden exposure to harsh light (blinding by the light).
scratch
Caritas is one form of authentic love, and all love is 'enactment' and ther you go
I studied metaphysics and epistemology for 4 decades, now it is your turn, to appreciate symbolic reasoning.
I especially like and prefer Descartes...that will be later though
 | |
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| Economics
Posted: 9/9/2009 10:26:28 PM | | Literature can charm | |
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| Economics
Posted: 9/9/2009 10:37:49 PM | | I studied caring and understood that you either decide to care or not. So be it. And after you care you understand that not to care is dire and fraught with non-meaning.All talk is not action, action is powerful. Especially action related to caring. | |
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| Economics
Posted: 9/9/2009 11:06:12 PM | I think you have it a plenty
dark caring sweet orchids
slender thinness
brilliant call honey hemp
silk ripe corn field | |
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| Economics
Posted: 9/9/2009 11:11:54 PM | I studied ambiguity and it was a so called 'hell' of innervation. Then I studied 'gradients' since I had to: being self employed for 32 years as a forest in the wilderness of BC.
Gradients are inclines, slopes, edges, whether symbolic or actual physical things, like a column of ice, or descent from an ice caped mountain.
Last year for instance a blind man ascended and descended M. Everest...
n
The numerous and unfolding gradients that involves is much more that rockery er I mean rocketry. | |
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| Economics
Posted: 9/11/2009 8:47:28 PM | Ambiguity has nothing to do with Mrs. McNeil
She has climbed many a Mount Everest.
Well lets talk about Michael McNeil.
He absolutely drank his way to heaven.
The children decided the end is near.
All have a capacity for laughter.
Not even one has chosen Science.
To explain a beginning with no clear end. | |
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| How do you tell the difference
Posted: 9/16/2009 11:54:32 AM | between a poem
and a strawberry?
Well, strawberries are shallow-rooted, perennial plants.
Poems are not.
ii
How do you tell the difference
between a poem
and a murder victim?
Murder victims are often
gory, repugnant sights,
possibly dismembered, their parts
strewn across the room or rooms.
All of a poem’s parts
are usually in the one place
more or less tidy on the page.
iii
How do you tell the difference
between a poem
and your sister’s latest purchase
of shoes?
Your sister isn’t wearing a poem
though she may think she is.
iv
How do you tell the difference
between a poem
and Gotterdammerung?
No need. When Gotterdammerung
arrives, every word we speak
will be a poem
or none. | |
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| How do you tell the difference
Posted: 9/19/2009 9:28:16 PM | The poem is the words that are used
to confess the understanding
gained from a bucketful of living
indeed, you are right.
but, let me pause
to understand the poetry denied. | |
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| How do you tell the difference
Posted: 9/19/2009 10:14:27 PM | When I think of atoms, I think of matter, of something solid, but when Democritus writes about atoms of the soul, then I think that atoms are not solids but perhaps ideas. In Hicks, Stoic and Epicurean Philosophy, 1901, a footnote indicates that Democritus, in existing fragments, states that atomoi, are ideas. Well at any rate if we confuse, or rather 'conflate' experience as a child would, we see the ideal as mechanical, but it is conflated. That is, it is brought up against everything else so as to resemble a teepee, or some type of stick works, maybe a twig formation. This might be a witch haven, a surround wherein some animals are kept, a surround made of birch saplings, and the shapes have 'character'...you know they are elongated rods, woody, piercing, and in amongst them is a muskrat that is quite friendly. They can move about too like domestic animals. So Democritus is saying that the atoms are moving in souls, spherical, fiery, and after all there is 'surrounding air' that is pressing in on the lungs; this is what makes living beings.
I like that. Quotation. Atoms as ideas....well if you look at this closely, atomoi are atomic building particles...of matter and ideas...
Sinceromente, | |
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| How do you tell the difference
Posted: 9/19/2009 10:52:34 PM | This afternoon of quiet
my face against my arm
held by a windowsill, my eye
is seeking nothing....then
out of the corner of my eye
a leaf slightly quivers
the world opens shockingly
ecstasy without notice.
Children know that leaves are their mothers. | |
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| How do you tell the difference
Posted: 9/20/2009 5:10:56 AM |
The poem is the words that are used
to confess the understanding
gained from a bucketful of living
indeed, you are right.
but, let me pause
to understand the poetry denied.
Aside from their intrinsic merit, your responses so often feel like a conversation we are having! | |
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| How do you tell the difference
Posted: 9/20/2009 5:14:17 AM |
When I think of atoms, I think of matter, of something solid, but when Democritus writes about atoms of the soul, then I think that atoms are not solids but perhaps ideas. In Hicks, Stoic and Epicurean Philosophy, 1901, a footnote indicates that Democritus, in existing fragments, states that atomoi, are ideas. Well at any rate if we confuse, or rather 'conflate' experience as a child would, we see the ideal as mechanical, but it is conflated. That is, it is brought up against everything else so as to resemble a teepee, or some type of stick works, maybe a twig formation. This might be a witch haven, a surround wherein some animals are kept, a surround made of birch saplings, and the shapes have 'character'...you know they are elongated rods, woody, piercing, and in amongst them is a muskrat that is quite friendly. They can move about too like domestic animals. So Democritus is saying that the atoms are moving in souls, spherical, fiery, and after all there is 'surrounding air' that is pressing in on the lungs; this is what makes living beings.
I like that. Quotation. Atoms as ideas....well if you look at this closely, atomoi are atomic building particles...of matter and ideas...
It isn't always possible, for me at least, to enter into a discussion of the thoughts you put forward but often - as here - I relish the poetic flow of your thinking. | |
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