Month: February 2012

and Part Six….palatable

On By NW FilbertIn Experimenctes, Journallings, TracesLeave a comment

Part the Sixth: A Palette of Words on Your Palate

Your lips and tongue and oral cavity, in the manner of your fingerprints, pronounce consonants and vowels like no other body. In most cases this is noticeable only to machines and highly trained specialists, but physiologically speaking, your speech has a distinct personality, in the manner of what some would call your psyche or soul.

Your make-up is distinctive, by-and-large very similar to every other human being. This is one of the reasons you are able to understand others – recognize humans, their gestures, expressions, actions and sounds. They partake in voluminous similarities to your own. Still, a far cry from “identically.”

In fact, from one day to the next, even one hour, you yourself are not identical to yourself, body or otherwise. So how do we keep track of who’s who, where, when, etc? We use signs and labels for things and concepts…symbols that can stand for things and adjust to things while they change and flow.

 

The socio-linguistic faction of semioticians view human consciousness, personality, individuality something like this:

Your physiological composition and arrangement, however similar it may be to other human beings, is still unique. Individuality refers to this aspect: indeed, you are a discreet example/entity of the species.

This plays a very important part in your acquisition or formation/development of personhood. As the other entities immersed in the systems (polysystemic – gender, race, nationality, education, economics, etc.) incorporate you into these systems by means (primarily, or most directly) of more overlapping systems of signs and gestures, your individualized entity adapts these uniquely – fitting yourself into the systems, learning to use existent systems (ideologies) in your particular, but enmeshed way.

This interplay of inner distinctiveness and outer systems of interrelated elements = your flexible and evolving personality.

You are granted, accorded a place in the systems – counted as a person, even as you adapt and acquire roles and behaviors in the systems you engage – becoming a “person.”

The chicken and the egg are synchronic. You can’t have one without the other.

Languages are those threading elements you affect and alter even as they effect and shape you. “Psyche,” “personality” does not exist separately from these systems. In other words, you could not recognize yourself, think, have awareness, in a void or in total isolation (even “isolation” as a word doesn’t make any sense without “others” or “else” to be enabled by – isolated from). You are you by virtue of your physiological uniqueness and capacities immersed in systems of anythings not-you.

Sign-systems, languages, general as they may be, are the medium whereby your personality (formed with those systems) and all that you are not, encounter and engage, take shape, “become” in what we call a “conscious” matter.

Crux? Your palate and brain, organs and anatomy are things (particular objects), your interrelational existence (roles, personality, style, etc.) are not, that is, not extractable realities, but are however you ideology (idea-words) the flow of your individuality and everything else or other-passing-by at all moments.

Fluid, flexible, and always, we chicken-and-egg-and-chicken our “selves” and the “world” linguistically.

Languages our floating, loaded systems of communication (self-to-self, self-to-other, other-to-self) we select from and individualize with each application, while keeping us immersed and enmeshed with itself and its social and organic forming and flow. Palate-to-palette-to-palate it goes…

Your palate, aswim in the world-palette, dabbles in and mixes the palette, further coloring and staining your palate, and so on…or so my palette palatates it…

 

“one is necessary, one is a piece of fatefulness,

one belongs to the whole, one is in the whole”

-Friedrich Nietzsche-

“Language and personality partake of both nature and nurture

and are the expression of both”

-J.R. Firth-

Ongoing Reflections

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The Mighty Rio Grande

 

I’ve had death on my mind lately. My death in particular. How dearly I dread it! How vehemently I don’t want living to cease, no matter what it brings or doesn’t. How I still smoke like something already burned out and useless, just smoldering here.

Last week I even put together a soundtrack for my passing. A collection of what my wife calls “ambient post-rock” musics – guitar laden swoons and murmurs with occasional peaks of magnitude and power but overall repetitive thrumming drives. Steady, soothing, gradual.

It scares me to think of it, my body wrestling against death’s dark-clawing clutches, like spasming farm-fowl jerking to rip tears in the black-out cloth. I imagine breath-taking pain, searing irrationality and panic, what oxygen in the body must cause when one is drowning. Not wanting to go down. To call it quits. To stop.

Most consider my anxieties irrational self-torments. That I stimulate and tickle them by obsession, where in fact there is no real immediate threat. I know no other way, it seems obvious and razor-sharp to me that death is eternally ubiquitous to those of us who live. Some, I’m sure, see in my grave fears an unsettled “soul,” a human ill-at-ease or dis-eased with the divine or reality or Earth Mother-Nature-All life-cycle nuances and so on, burdened with sin or guilt, impatience, desire or incompletion.

I won’t apologize or repent of it, I simply crave the going-on of “you’ll-never-know-what-will-turn-up” that living seems to me. The “indestructible possibles” in the words of Samuel Beckett (that master of going on in the bleak) in the mouth of Alain Badiou.

Be that as it may, my family’s query as to my persistence in self-destructive habits and spirals (Freud’s “death drive”?) carry their valid weight and aplomb and must be answered: I give these to my reasonable oneness with Nature physiologically, irrespective of rationale – the “balance of truth” as it were, physical/mental acquiescence to the facts.

Afterlife certainly doesn’t assuage – I’m not wanting “other” “better” or overall “change,” just to go on in a minimal state of comfort with highs and lows interspersed. Movement – it’s different enough every day.

Driving the children to school, the drama of my CD playing in the background, me hoping it might subconsciously provoke in them an atmosphere of nostalgia and hope, dream and determination, some synchrony of reflection and will to power, once the charges were dropped off I let the final tune play itself out to the puffs of a cigarette.

Ironically, the band’s moniker is “This Will Destroy You” – on a brisk hazily sunlit river road of trees and cloudless sky morning – it’s a given: these children, this love, the losses, the agonies and beauty will, indeed, be the very “this” that “will destroy” me. Every moment counts that way. The song was “The Mighty Rio Grande,” with which my most recent previous overwhelm had occurred headphone’d in a jetliner staring out the window at a receding Mexican countryside of scrub trees, poverty and violent self-sustenance.

Today as I received what would destroy me, throbbing my cranium and vibrating my belly, I glimpsed an acceptable translation of my death.

As the music grew from its insistent quiet repetition, one step at a time, toward a dropping and swelling tumultuous tremor, I believed if the succumbing fight could be transposed like these sounds, I could bear it.

The Winter trees stark with skeletal blooms thrusting up, up, out and over, I thought – this could be okay – if the excruciating pain writhed out like white enormous wings tearing out of my chest in violent struggle, then spreading into flight like umbrellas of muscling clouds…tormented joints and hobbled thighs pushing through into tenacious trunks and grasping talons of branches like a howling chorus…fierce caws of crafty crows eating their shrieks out of my throat, pecking their freedom of my skull…an explosive fire of sheer determination, perseverance rather than a smothering suffocate oppression…that might feel an adequate conclusion.

Something giving in by giving out. Jacob wrestling angels. Trees and rivers attacked by and become great storms…Okay.

When the time comes, if it floods the Mighty Rio Grande.

N Filbert 2012

(click on title to hear wondrous song)

Word(s) Up : Part Five

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Part 5: “Full of you’ll never know what will turn up”

I take it for granted that every one of us is all of the time making. Making dreams and reality, sense and sensation, monologue/dialogue/multilogue, doubts and knowledge, perception and experience. To live is to make a living, blood cells and amino acids, proteins and carbon dioxide, hormones and synapses.

We live and we say so. Whether fundamentally by motion and the occupation of space, or humanly by gestures and communications. Ever refining our capacities, both biologically and technically, we attempt, invent, create and construct our way along. Language, in its many forms is a principal way we make and are made.

Living or anything-ing implies movement implies change implies flexibility. Language is no exception to this implied principle. Malleability and flexibility – RELATIVITY – is at the core of living and living language. This is why I prefer talking of human activities and behaviors in active tenses…languaging, marrying, being, loving, and the like – is is what it is as it is is-ing.

RELATIVITY is a helpful idea-term for another powerful reason. It implies RELATION. Relations between all things as they are (are-ing). We skein language into the midst of this as a stretchable porous border, like air molecules or water, identifying and allowing difference and movement at all moments.

This is a splendour, a method and means, matter and medium by which we relate, flexibly, comprehensibly – to ourselves, to one another, to world.

Is it?

Because all that’s alive is making and moving, all is “full of you’ll never know what will turn up.” Language not only assigns the full, the you, the what and turning up, but is itself “full of you’ll never know what will turn up,” a relational medium and a matter we’re in relation with!

Pushing a bus while you’re driving it.

Stammer, stutter, flow, overflow.

It marks, misses the mark and overshoots the mark all at once.

This is why ontological thinkers like philosophers and poets believe language is wedded to human being as to be inseparable. Like our physiognomy, it’s a being we cannot investigate or relate to without it. We’re unable to separate from being to examine being. Unable to assess language without using language and being used thereby.

Shrug.

So those of us entranced by such apparently impossible conundrums do it anyway. Scientists and priests, philosophers and fantasiers – we anatomize ourselves and feign beyonds; microscopic particles and telescopic generalities,

it becomes a form of very sophisticated childs-play, a gravely serious and frivolous game, not unlike going on living which is the same thing as dying.

Granted – it’s fantastic – and impossible – what drives us? See – you never know what will turn up – and any direction you head (as a human) will be paved with language while you’re laying its bricks.

Astonishing! Astounding!

Helpless! Hopeless!

Like living toward death?

It’s what we do. Let’s call it “keeping up with relativity,” or “languaging” or living,

any one will do

A quotey-quote

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“Once philosophy was stories, religion was stories, wisdom books were stories, but now that fiction is held to be a form of lying, even by literary sophisticates, we are without persuasive wisdom, religion or philosophy”

Ronald Sukenick

“Everything happens and everything that happens is part of the story and everything that everyone thinks about what happens is part of the story…and isn’t it interesting how in stories everything comes together but to continue…

Wording on…Part 4

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Part 4: At the Threshold

Which brings us to:

the look in the eye/I.

Tell me you don’t know this:

you flood – you are filled up with an exceedingly distinct comprehension, you are “in it,” “getting it,” for now, let’s say this is a “profound sensation.”

simultaneously (usually) you are experiencing what seems to be an all-over, thorough-going “impression” (or impressions), this all meeting in what we are calling “profound sensation,”

inner and outer; incoming outgoing; expression impression, these are overwhelming and gravitate to interpretation and communication, expression and recording or description, in signs or series of signs and gestures.

Might be through sound or gesticulation, a color shaped, an action or behavior…these interfusions come out / in all the time, it is what it is to be living, it makes us who and what we are, the world and ourselves, to the world and to ourselves.

 

Words are the signs that conceivably might carry the largest amounts of this sensation…could they be found, or adequately arranged. It would incarnate this experience – give it body and form and objective factual existence among I and not-I.

Animals shriek, bark, run, tussle, shiver, bite, rise up, lay low, paint, scratch, gesture and so forth…but human animals have this additional matter – concept-conveyors and description-declaimers – able to stand in solidly, as beings, for gestures, sounds, colors, actions, emotions, events, and so on…separately. Words.

Outside rushing in and through, inside processing around and out, the threshold filled with signs like skin…thoughts, perceptions, emotions, sensations, commands, refusals, representations, questions…apparently everything that can happen in this mutual conditioning of person and world can be lexically signed.

The threshold double-passageways of terms.

Promising…exciting….intelligible….and yet?

Would you not agree that the moments the word-beings actually seem identical to the enmeshed flow are extremely rare?

You see her, or have seen her so long, you gaze, smell, listen, observe. You touch her, you are touched by, you taste her, this intimate between…you must convince her, exclaim to her what goes on in this…

you stammer or embellish, metaphor or moan, sing, laugh, cliché…

but it does not come out “right.” The arguments are unjust to the message intended. The emotions pour out through the sieve of the letters as you say them…uncontained, unconveyed, “at a loss.”

Or you read Heidegger or Pessoa, Blanchot or Lorca, you are moved and all the lights come out as in Spring, the sense of their words courses through you like brandy…you call your friend, you begin to sputter, attempting translation, your words sound foreign, unconvincing, unclear and inane…it is impossible to paraphrase – “unintelligible and untranslatable but not incomprehensible” after all, you “got it,” you’re suffused with “it” – the comprehension, reciprocation, “profound sensation” of the mutual conditioning of self and words/world…isn’t this what words are for? And yet…

This is the threshold of creative language. For speaker/writer “new layers of reality and insight have opened up” – language is required to factualize, birth this presence…but all the language you know seems unable…

Which brings us to:

the look in the eye/I

Tell me you don’t know this…

N Filbert 2012

reflections, remarks…word-press – Feb 18, 2012

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listening to “in the stream” by S. Carey)

those rarities, Kansas expressing itself moistly, greyly, gently, 45 degrees

swinging on porch, watching children fill up papers with marks, pictures, “pictographs,” symbols, words and letters

watching wife seek “just the right terms” (le mot juste) to represent her vision and beliefs regarding human possibilities and health for a webpage for her therapeutic practice

reading Merwin, Laura (Riding) Jackson, Charles Bernstein, Colson Whitehead, Jerome Klinkowitz in stolen moments throughout the day in order to continue a pondering, a willingness, an open stance toward the world and the persons populating it with perspectives and politics

wondering nostalgically, tenderly, familiarly through the mental stacks – spines like Dostoevsky and Sterne, Balzac and Bakhtin, Kafka, Pessoa, Jabes, Cixous, on, on, on…

how very many words have pressed through, been impressed and imprinted…how much has pressed through words…

a cursory glance at wordpress stats today – hundreds of thousands of blogs of signs upon signs upon signs of human upon human    upon human, pressing words out, in – words pressing them…

Beckett and Blanchot’s concept of exigency, that we have a meaningless compulsion to say, resonates…

Laura and Schuyler Jackson’s magnum opus (“Rational Meaning”), a lifetime of work, situated on two lifetimes ponderings of human engagement with language, that, indeed there must be meaning to it for the human and out terms…resonates

that we go on saying… and on… saying… and on… saying… and on…

seems particularly potent and precious to me today

Thank you to everyone pressing and being pressed by – word(s)!!

More instants of I…

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I struggle up the mountain, tattered on its sides. The incline so steep and with no ropes to hold me. There is moon up above, punctuating the sky. Breathmarks, the verbs between the objects. I tumble often, scrape, slide and bruise. The outcome is uncertain. Way up, way down, no way out.

 

 

I clambered over the wall. It was there I found the well. I have gazed into that dark cylinder, at times with light in my eyes like flint-flecks, at times in weeping worry. How slick, how straight and untraversed the walls.

 

 

I float in a cloud-like balloon. I hover there in dream. I spend days traveling this way, ranging over presence and past, over water and plain, jagged peaks and craggy fjords, memories. I cannot describe what I perceive at this distance, it is untrustworthy like dark carrion in the sun’s glare.

 

 

I swim in my sleep. Lumber and slumber are rhyme. I move about that way when under, submersion and windowless light. This room in my cranium, this hallway my heart, tangled in entrails and veins, I wriggle a slow-motion dance. The death kind – the circles and spins.

 

 

I suspect it was a struggle, the clawing and chuffing up over the wall. An inside, an outside, beyond. A large forest of straight-spined blackened pines. I I I I l l l – giant digits seeming infinite, numberless, thick with resemblance and variations.

 

 

I discovered myself in the music, each bleak stick-figure with its bulbs of dark baggage and death-flags and banners. Occasionally a hollow, a void, a rest. I slept through the rectangles sheeted in white, I peered through the half-notes with clarity, I sounded the holes of the wholes. The rest scattered polyps of pain, dashes and branches running together, an aggregate noise.

 

 

I saw my father once, with his father. Saw through. Grandfather, eaten away on a hospital bed, what moisture remained dabbed the corners of his wadded-up eyes, pleading with my father to kidnap him home for his death. I understood then. About home being a safe place to die. That ends come out of beginnings and belong to each other. I watched my father depart.

 

Up With/Against/Into/Through Word(s) (pt. 3)

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Part Three: Up through Word(s)

Along with the simple, yet profound pleasure of making things.

To write out a word by hand, or to unscramble a term using a keyboard like collage, creates things. Objects. Each letter, each word, small buildings like a carpenter or a renderer’s lines, a chef alchemizing ingredients, a child with its Legos. Alphabet-blocks, rhythms, sounds, breath and tone, voice and line. There is a satisfaction for humans in labor accomplished, in tasks performed.

And if unnecessary or gratuitous – in other words, for some reason beyond survival – what a delight and surprise it can be!

 

To make and to break with the logic of identity. To reconcile opposites (or eliminate by erasing or copulating them): inner/outer, same/difference, thought/matter + time, self/world, beginning/end

 

So that in creating, the beginning is always already begun, and the making can go in any direction, without direction, directing

poeisis —- aporia

Aporeisis?

the self-questioning making

the making-doubts(?)

Playing here.

Labor as play, game with all the seriousness and imitation (family resemblance) of religion, signifying being…

 

self-generative and generative of self

and so on…

always “and so on…”

abyss or freedom

 

A pouring

(movement both full to empty

emptying to filling)

-what writing might be like-

and then some…

the engagement itself

investigation experiment inquiry

 

“I am experimenting in the linguistic field

in the hope

that there exists in language an unknown vivacity

which it is a pleasure to awaken”

-Robert Walser-

or the FORMING BLANK

“When someone says ‘I stand there looking’ [writing, playing, speaking, being], for there read forming, that is, ‘I stand forming looking’ [ditto]…for all there’s are forming –

flexible schemas-at-large, all exactly expanding as they are reduced”

-Madeline Gins-

 

And so we (forming) write (forming)

 

a (“without”) poros (“passage”)

difficulty + expediency

BEGIN

“It may be that to understand ourselves as fictions,

is to understand ourselves as fully as we can”

-Jeannette Winterson-

I. Write.

Thinking it through….or trying

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Fiction as Forms of Response as Fiction

“…someone has been through an experience, now they are looking for the story of their experience…

you can’t live with an experience that remains without a story”

-Max Frisch-

“We want to have a reason for feeling this way or that – for feeling bad or for feeling good.

We are never satisfied merely to state the fact we feel this way or that :

we admit this fact only – become conscious of it only – when we have furnished

some kind of motivation”

-Friedrich Nietzsche-

“the error of imaginary causes”

Sees. Hears. Smells. Tastes. Feels.

Attracts/contracts. Reaches out/recoils.

Pleasure. Pain. Good. Bad. Happy. Hurt.

Satisfaction. Need. Preference. Proclivity. Desire.

“someone has been through an experience”

Simple facts: experience: a living organism encountering its environment and its individuality, i.e. its entity withing environment.

“now they are looking for a story for their experience…”

that is the story, as far as we know.

Feels. Tastes. Sees. Hears. Smells.

Experiences.

Attracts/retracts; Expands/recoils; moves/stays stationary.

Responds.

Then begins interpretation (the application of imagination to experience):

Pleasure. Pain. Happy. Hurt. Gain. Loss. Excite. Fear. Satisfaction. Need.

Storying. Signing. Duplicitous. “Meaning”: referencing anything outside of experience to occurring experience: compare. contrast. similar. different. preference. proclivity. desire.

Can we live without the stories? Delusions? Imagination – constructions?

Only experience our lives as they occur?

“you can’t live with an experience that remains without a story”

Is that so?

Furthest Remove: that of the question mark – shorthand for infinity.

How quickly inquisitiveness. The infant. Satisfaction. Need.

The gaze, the fuzzy ear pricked, the sniffing, the tongue suck and wail, the grasping arms: ?

“now it is looking for the story of its experience”

A fore and an aft. A this and that. A me and not-me. A feeling and a countering feeling. An imagination. Illusion. Additive.

? = infinity = desire.

In the behavior, in the almost-thought, in the instincts…

Complexly constructed to image-in to experience, alternate experiences.

Metaphor. Meaning. Combine and extract. Wish. Desire.

Preference. Proclivity. ?

Proliferation of experience

When activation of the questioning (quest-ing) ceases, the organism dies.

? = possibility. Potential. Infinity.

Why is it so “difficult” to stop at experience and rather to move on to “experiment”? To weave and unwind. Knot and sever.

“one senses…

as one improvises on the piano”

after Wallace Stevens

“not only do we perceive what we are prepared to perceive,

but we perceive what we want to perceive

our senses carry with them the double ballast

of our preconceptions (imagine!) and our desires (wish)”

after F. Gonzalez-Crussi

“when someone says ‘I stand there perceiving,’ for there read forming,

that is, ‘I stand forming perceiving’…all there’s are forming”

after Madeline Gins

Why? = ? = infinity = abyss = void.

Experience = there is + ?

(when again occurs)

Sees. Hears. Smells. Tastes. Feels. again (imagination begun)

Same. Different. (imagination begun)

Reference rather than new now (imagination begun)

Story construction. Illusion. Apparently infinite desire.

There is “and” (imaginative construction – addition/subtraction)

there is “again” (invention connection – illusion? – difference/similarity – story begun)

“Organism experiences…questions…desires…goes on”

(as opposed to? “reality”? = experience – experience – experience – experience –

like the single-cell’d?)

Just so we’re clear on that, once perception engaged…we’re experimenting, imagining a story.

Repetitive exercise

On By NW FilbertIn Experimenctes, Journallings, Traces2 Comments

In Passing

notes to the soundtrack for my final disappearance

  1. This is how we emerge                                            Concrescence by Caspian

                  beginning rhythm and reference

                  repetition and development of variations

                 slowly, gently

                 steady structures, establishing chords, core melodies

                 nostalgia for simplicity, grace of being

                 opening…up….toward, into

  1. This is how we make              Freedom Blade by This Will Destroy You / Lymbyc System

              as out from dreams, while dreaming remains

             principles, values, self inquiry

             as gradual clearings of fog

             acquiring voice, an “I”, somethings to say and to be

             slowly, gradually, reaching and dredging

            tinkering, organizing, choosing, placing

            beginning to see

           to open to feel

            Hello…I am…there is…

  1. Entering depth…                                 Epochs in Dmaj by Caspian

                 coming toward finding

                 concentration, inquiry, staying, layering, unlayering

                 passion builds this way

                empathy…moving into…world…self…other

               touching…diving…flying…swimming

               entering living

  1. Grief                                           Less by Nils Frahm

                what is singular

                 isolation

                tears

               “Less.” things, people, potentials, possibilities can be lost

                ache. desire.. wish. sorrow

                muffling pain…our inner workings…

                the stillness, the silence surround

                to remember

                to wonder and to miss. to fall or to fail or need to lie down

                to yearn from pain. to want.

               to experience less. lack.

                learning subtlety

  1. Heaving the scream              Three-Legged Workhorse by This Will Destroy You

    rage. revenge. determination. to seethe

    out of ashes…begin again

    explicitly

    Anger.

    To choose

    Obstruction. Opposition.

    To work. To pound. To continue.

    To find vocation.

    Three-Legged…to step forth with all one has…and step and step and struggle and step

    To tear away and apply…not to stop…to expand

    Insist

    To break forth. Announce. I am!

    I am, I am, I still am…

    to recede…I may be….but only

    toiling away…a way forward, surely, toiling…

    the keeping at…the consume…continue, continue

    I can’t go on…I must. go. on….through

  1. Personal Victories                                  Any Other Name by Thomas Newman

    gains. comprehensions.

    coming to respond to one’s own “I am”

    to say yes. alone. with world. in world.

    perhaps not of

    but alive

    aware one is alive

    one is

    and a world of others

    breath. grace.

    learning to say okay to one’s self, to world

  1. Happening                                        Day 1 by Explosions in the Sky

              engagement

              there is a world and it is occuring, happening

             events

              experience, experiments

              accumulation and then freedom (from and to)

              fascination, wonder

              wide-eyed…beholding

              possibility of promise…clear air

  1. Perspective                                 Over There, It’s Raining by Nils Frahm

    reflection

    a widening of borders, boundaries

    liminality of it all

    flow, spread, rest…

    far beyond one…

  1. Love                    The Only Moment We Were Alone by Explosions in the Sky

    shock of AN other

    thumps, rocks…startlement…stun

    feels like a different world

    unknowns

    disbelief

    wonder

    amaze

    …like revelation…

    pours down…trickle at first…

    more…more… (heartbeats)

    more…more…

    learning, details, fullness, expansion, sky, night, grandeur, power, ecstasy, mushrooming…breath, joining, at a jog…a joy…

    it arrives = AT ONCE! CULMINATIVE! TOGETHER!

    ENORMITY! gasp or sigh

    down…

    up…

    recede…

    return…

    elation – anguish – hope – despair

    Love.

  1. New heights, new depths…recovering…                  Epochs in Dmaj by Caspian

    left up, out, space, sky, night

    adrift, afloat

    looking around…

    still here…remains…

    vision changed, rearranged…

    world different again…

    to absorb, take in, a daze, a comfort

  1. To season                            Mighty Rio Grande by This Will Destroy You

    to have lived

    endured

    to still be standing, crawling, walking, breathing

    to build again…

    learning to live in the world, the “there are”

    and you are…one among…

    becoming part…

    years, seasons, days, people, places, works, movements,

    actions, sayings, knowings, doings, losses, gains,

    accumulate…a-mounts…a thickness to things

          nostalgia, tenderness, fullness, its dream

          presence, presents, worth, echoes, its sea

          plenty, rise, rest…

          prepare…we are not through

          heart quickens…

         construct your words, your deeds, character

         begin to GIVE

         to RECEIVE

         ………………incredible fullnesses of joy………………

         this dizzying intoxicating enormousness of world, of life

         this paradise of being: look! listen! taste touch smell!

          SEE! BE!! Oh just be!!! (PRAISE)

           and then…………..

                                         carry……….

  1. The Final New…                                     Postcard from 1952 by Explosions in the Sky

                where is this? where am I? where are we going?

                wha-?!

                let go………….

               release……….

               spread out…join…grow light

               sweetly and sweetly sing

               smile….acknowledge….thank….

on………..

upon surface of waves of cloud of sky of dream of eyes of breath of bodies and hands and hair and tongue and voice and meetings and partings and griefs and joys and haunts and words and journeys and memories and imaginations and….

and on………..

(delivery)

– so long –

(a star implodes)

  1. Reverberations Freedom Blade by This Will Destroy You / Lymbyc System