time does not really exist


"The words are already fixed in the storehouse of the memory."
                                         --Robert Graves



the poem exists
before the poem is written

a small shard of gravity
pulls from the world
to its center

wisps of passed
and passing things
and non-things
as they pass

throws off words and
spins the written poem








Cinqchain (Cinquain Chain)…I must be insane…


Pressure

Between 
crushing pressures

at the centers of things

and pressure-less vacuum, there is

just this.


Just this—
this thin skin of

volition holds our hearts
within our chests and holds its beats
in check.

In check-
ered overlays
on all we see, the mind 
beats against the shadows that lie 
between.
 




(We have just opened a restaurant.  
I'm averaging 16-18 hour workdays, 
and 4 hours of sleep, if I'm lucky.
None the less, I will attempt
NaPoWriMo....No guarantees....
we'll see how this goes.)









Levity of Mind






the way of the mind is levity
getting always lighter and lighter
for all these hundreds of thousands 
of years and now so far away 

it thinks
its self 
a part 
separate

it thinks itself to pieces
and pieces its self apart

it has thought itself into
other planets, other orbits
around other suns of thought
other sources of seeing itself
its pieces
its self pulls 
it apart


predicates
          abdicate
and
          participles 
don't participate
but dangle
in odd angles
of mobile meaning

our sense of tense is 
tenuousness at rest while
our tense itself is senseless

tensile strength is useless
for holding all this together



Slugs for Panda

(…they make the same sound as turds when they hit the pavement…and I think they have the same kind of sex as snails…)

First they like to start with a bit of sleazy funk music, perhaps a little

Los Amigos Invisibles

You know, something to get the juices flowing…

slug1

and then….

slug2Shpronnngggonnnggggonnnnggggonnnnggg

…they bounce down

stretching languourously

on their mutually constrained strand of mucus

slug3guckglickxxchtkxxpft

blue things come out of the sides of their respective heads

co-mingling so….

slug4

bluely

as they entwine gracefully tangling

and dangling

in mid-air

slug5phphphpllllllaaaaaaaaatzzzzzzz

slug6

…slowly—

eh-eh-eeeever so slowly dropping onto

the ground

under the airy bed

of their copulation….

slug7SSssthlip.-.-.-*pop*

then “she”

(or at least my wife insists it’s a “she” even though they’re hermaphroditic

because “she’s” the one left in the wet spot while “he” has kissed and ran

            ….well, sort of just slurped off)

snips off that string–the last severing act of their

long

longitudinal

drop of lust.

Disgusted?

Revolted?

Yeah, I was too.

But you couldn’t stop watching either, could you?

It all takes about 18 minutes or so.

I have 67 glossy, digital, time-stamped images to prove it.

I keep them with my etchings.

Would you care to come up and see them some time?