The influence of gaslight or electric light on the growth of paraheliotropic trees

bonebrushing the edges of the res interna (upper transcend)

Category: Uncategorized

3. The Walk

Took a boat to Spain. Disembarked in view of Gibraltar. Began walking. Up the way of Hannibal. Past two mountains. Into the great valley. Green autumn woods. Cities. Roads. Disappear. Clocks run backwards. Differentiation falls away. Animals attend my trail. Suspicious watchings. Eyes blinking. Deer. Rabbits. Wolves. Once there were others, other speakers. Now I am alone. I speak to myself. To the animals. I name them. I am the first. I am the last. I am the watcher. My eyes encompass the forest. Beginning with my own body, my limbs, which I can feel, and then beyond, the world extends. One experience. I am Man. Being. Knowing. Knowing I walk, without knowing why.

I come to a crumbled snakeskin. I continue past it.

2. Hef and Hut

Hef and Hut sit down down to a tea party after twelve o’clock two, and flipbook through a picturegame of the Great Masters of Old 20th and make figurative small talk to each other while the time runs out.

Hef says “I like reds and blues” and

Hut says “I like greens and boxes”

Hef says “The rain grass is lovely”

Hut says “Swans all around”

Hef says “drops on a polychromatic slick dream”

Hut says “dream?”

Hef says “dream green dreams”

Hut says “trees?”

Hef says “very old, the oldest”

Hut says “change your eyes you’ll change the art”

Hef says “trade an ear for some eyeglasses?”

Hut says “broken lady down the stairs”

Hef says “knights in shining armor”

Hut says “ten indians in a row”

Hef says “custards’ last stand churns its own butter, with cows brought in from Ithaca”

Hut says “Penelope waits”

Hef says “who gives her pleasure?”

Hut says “I I never thought of that, forgot about her ladyparts”

Hef says “How can you forget, I’m master of revels”

Hut says “dance of the visible, ineluctable modalities”

Hef says “how do you remember that, Hutty?”

Hut says “prodigious memory or an angel touched my philtrum”

Hef says “After we are dead all will be remembered”

Hut says “You’ll sit with Jesus and I’ll sit with Mom”

Hef says “if it could only be”

Hut says “the weight of nothing”

Hef says “apophatic”

Hut says “what’s that button on your chestbump?”

Hef says “brandmark for the squashedbugs”

Hut says “squeaky voices cry out from the rocks?”

Hef says “old goatmaster is at the returns counter for store credit”

Hut says “gold melts down to lead cannot reverse the process”

Hef says “sure just play the tape backwards”

Hut says “cant”

Hef says “synapses?”

Hut says “know any jokes?”

Hef says “a fox burying his grandmother?”

Hut says “an old chestnut”

Hef says “dance of the sugarplums?”

Hut says “darwindance did it”

Hef says “hot potatoe”

Hut says “spelled wrong”

Hef says “nopenope”

Hut says “think so”

Hef says “should we go?”

Hut says “not going to play that game, we won’t”

Hef says “waiting for a bus to come”

Hut says “it comes, the schedules are printed”

Hef says “you can’t read in your dreams – wrong side of the bed”

Hut says “I don’t believe in brains. My thought proceeds by way of gravity forcing water through a sieve”

Hef says “equally plausible, granted, without finer instruments”

Hut says “the instruments are strong”

Hef says “which is essential, player or played?”

Hut says “riddles within riddles. brass or woodwind?”

Hef says “bassinets and oboes.”

Hut says “a superior ursus is dormant til post meridian”

Hef says “Ho, scaliwag, defend your post”

Hut says “the foundations are pegged in quicksilver mud”

Hef says “safe, quicksilver defies entropy”

Hut says “holy god of shortcuts”

Hef says “the shorter route”

Hut says “does it come?”

Hef says “no, it does not come, just death”

Hut says “what then?”

Hef says “darkness”

Hut says “what then?”

Hef says “darkness”

Hut says “afraid”

Hef says “just dreamless sleep”

Hut says “do trees dream?”

Hef says “green dreams”

Hut says “do trees dream?”

Hef says “green dreams.”

Light of Other Days – Thomas Moore (1779-1852)

Oft, in the stilly night,
Ere slumber’s chain has bound me,
Fond Memory brings the light
Of other days around me.

I. The Senseless Act

Humans are just monkeys, and monkeys aren’t smart. One monkey, particularly dumb, unweighing of consequences, short-sighted, in pain, jealous, rises up, takes a weapon, easily obtained, and shoves it into the soft underbelly of a smarter man who does not expect to die.

The pain is sweet in the smart man’s mouth, sweet and unexpected, his head is light, looking down at his shirt and watching the blood bloom out — and then the pain becomes unbearable and the man slumps down — looks up at the dumb one, dumb one looking back — smart man begins calculating at breakneck speed, trying to rationalize his way out of his predicament, trying to identify the chain of mistakes that led him to this moment, dying on the sidewalk. He feels hands going through his pocket, grabbing a music player, and a wallet. He tries to speak but cannot muster the strength — it’s becoming increasingly hard to think, though he realizes what is happening, realizes he is dying, the fear is overwhelming his rational mind, still, grasping, hoping, maybe an ambulance will come — maybe someone will see — but no, the street is empty and he is bleeding quickly —

He reaches out and trys to grab the dumb one’s arm but doesn’t have the strength. The dumb one slinks away from what he did, from his brother on the ground, the voice of your brother sings, he thinks, old sundayschool memory, and he runs into the shadows.

The fear overwelms the smart one; it goes, it goes, it goes, he thinks of his wife, his children, his parents, he thinks of them again, trying to hold on to that, tears running down his head, maybe maybe maybe he’ll be ok, screaming, screaming if he could, he goes, he goes, he goes, oh, oh, oh, oh, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts oh it hurts oh it hurts oh it hurts so much angie angie oh it hurts angie come back to me oh angie come back come back oh oh oh oh oh

Knowing How to Lose

This is how you lose:

1. Don’t want to win.

2. Try real hard.

3. Then give up right at the end.

Do these things, and you’ll never have to deal with the existential pain of success.

chirp chirp chirp

Young bird on the wing chirping chirp chirping,
bright-shined robin chirp chirps back,
and feathers flutter fly

some moons later,
birds goes down to the morning wormfield,
and putters for his bread like Old Cursed Adam Farmer,
brings back happy ribbons to drape across
the earlocks of the stranger
lying next to him in his big double bed

eggs are in the oven, warm

Anekantavada

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anekantavada

I slept, and dreamed that life was beauty

I slept, and dreamed that life was beauty,
I woke, and found that life was Duty,

Was thy dream then a shadowy lie?
Toil on, poor heart, unceasingly,
And thou shalt find thy dream to be
A truth and noonday light to thee.

— Ellen Sturgis Hooper, 1816-1841

Facing frontwards, facing backwards

There comes a point when you realize, you’re going to live in this world, die in this world, and there’s nothing you or anyone can do about it – somewhere, out there, there are presidents and kings, but that’s not you, you didn’t make the world, you didn’t choose it, but it’s here, and sometimes, it’s wonderful, and accept it or not, that’s always your choice, but if you don’t accept it, don’t start living in it, start doing whatever it is you find you need to do, then before you’ll know it, this little spoonful of life that has been measured out for you will be half-drunk up and all the hopes and dreams of younger idealistic days will have been snuffed out, ground up, scattered like the spiderwebs that others have walked through –

 

But consider the alternative – to live in this world which others have made, to stand on their shoulders, throwing balls in the air through the thick medium of Time, ‘till one day, you look around, and through the tragedy, see, that the world is now yours, and it is the world that you made, that you chose, and destiny us an extrasynchronous word for what is the dynamic time-based process of becoming, and you have and are becoming and though your life is finite, dwindling, it is yours and full and rich and wonderful.

 

Ultimately, it is a choice. Turn eyes open and face the black hole with its bright stunning radiance – or turn your back on it, and shiver in the shadow of your own self blocking the way.

A Play for New York City

Young man, sad and lonely, going from room to room, as he spends his day inside.