Tag Archives: Dust

the forever of unsure

It was impossible to be precise about itNo one felt anything definiteThere wasn’t any announcement about the thingWhen it happenedWe understood nothing of what had happenedTo us. We would have been afraid to sayAnything about it but the fearWas unpronounced, a vague stirringInstead we watched the earth shakeThe sky change into colorsUnimagined until now, now…More

Poetry and the Idea

Does poetry relate to the idea?  Yes, as far as the idea is force all poetry, and always, relates to it, as speaking out is a force and, like ideas, is effective in the world around it, the world of forces.  What the idea is besides this force, or as this force, is of course…More

From the Vault of Dust

Dust, dust everywhere, and its movements entire worlds and shapeless defining and redefinition of worlds. Every speck of things a brilliant possibility, even the dust swept aside and beneath things beckoning to unheard of possibilities.More

docta ignorantia

How far does my ignorance extend? To the ends? To every end? I might be certain of having a hand, but the certainty is merely a brick in the wall of a building I use as my shelter. I might be certain of having a desire for someone or something, but a desire can be…More

Nevertheless

Nevertheless I have the confidence that life can continue through muck, shit, and what is neither muck nor shit but is instead a recalcitrant stopping-point, a point at which, even if you would not wish to stop, even if you would not dare stop here, you must stop.Nevertheless the company is something fulfilling, the company…More

All Perishing All Divine

When we accidentally step on an insect (I know, for some it is not an accident), we see the life gone from it in an instant. What was now a creeping, crawling, flittering thing is now a dead thing at your feet, whether we stop to wonder at and praise the thing for its life…More

The Forever of Joy

Sorrow tells us what we want to hear, that the world is small and shall become smaller, that it will shrink even more than it is shrunken now, fold into innumerable wrinkles like a compressed apricot pit, compressed to the size of a mustard grain.  We want to hear it because sadness makes the world…More

A.I. Wondering

Some people worry that artificial intelligence will make us feel inferior, but then, anybody in his right mind should have an inferiority complex every time he looks at a flower. Alan Kay We can be sure that everything that encourages our participation on the internet today is somehow contributing to the development and further refining…More

It Is What It Is

For MarkWhen I look up to the sky nowAnd see the lines between the clouds,Fractal lines, giving each cloud its shapeAnd identity, think for a moment I see themColliding into one another soundlessly forming largerClouds or departingFrom one another,Getting smallerAnd smaller, until I realize that larger cloudIs something else than the smaller,That each has its…More

The Breath of Meaninglessness

The breath of meaninglessness comes as easily, as unaccounted for, as graciously as the breath of meaning, both like a breeze across the damp swamp, a breeze that suddenly gives to the stagnant air life, direction, energy.               What else do you want out of this, she asked.  When she said the words it was…More