Author: NW Filbert
"Arrange whatever pieces come your way" - Virginia Woolf
"Thinking about language, while thinking IN language, leads to puzzles and paradoxes" -James Gleick
"a word is a bridge thrown between myself and another...a territory shared" - V.N. Volosinov
"How words are understood is not told by words alone" - Ludwig Wittgenstein
Two Moon Stone
Two moons
in the rock,
one light,
one dark,
one stone,
one shadow,
and a sun,
a sky
for light
to travel
through
like breath
.
as if
we had
the sun
for eyes,
the moons
for thought
It is sufficient to name a “…
It is sufficient to name a “being,” and we mean, in a merely approximate yet portentous thinking, the being of this being. We name being along with …
It is sufficient to name a “…
Pornography
many experiences are “good” –
nourishing, satisfying,
even ecstatic and astounding…
.
but at some juncture
you want
to be lying down
.
naked
to another flesh
touching
.
because
.
pornography –
or a species –
that decides
.
to maximize
pleasure
that is,
.
to accumulate
idea-lie-zed
fantasies
.
is a result
of the cause
of desiring
.
sanctity and space,
“scientia” it is called
paradise, heaven
.
Nowhere. Nirvana.
To-be.
Left to Say
Looking for an old post for something, finding other…
Polysemic Stupor
Greetings all. Well it has been a while hasn’t it! Over a year, wow! And what a year. Here follows a renewed attempt to process being with scribblings. I never find a way for text editing software to recreate how language emits through me – so I’m attaching a PDF file and an image of the opening page. Hope you are all staying healthy and safe.
“Now” “again”: or, desire in times of control
The times are not easy.
Time never was.
Yet we insist
on enumerating
our lack of control,
unknowing…
.
“God,” we say, (in 3 digits)
“atom” at four, or the “facts” being five,
“knowledge” (as 9) over
“wisdom” – contrived in 6 letters
resembling “power” (which is slightly less-than) –
.
pretending we’re nearer
a “truth.”
Splintering this countless discourse
making babble –
pathways dividing again and again
.
Not to worry,
No-One,
least not here,
never there, nary hereing
we strive to forget –
.
the small fractions
we are,
even increments fail –
our instrumentation –
excrement turning to soil.
.
We say on,
calculating
in terms.
Splits on a dial
or bits switching voltage
to light
and/or sound –
inexplicably deafblind
we human – perceiving,
depleting, reduce.
.
The times never easy,
or real,
and all barely broken apart –
what we call the “fantastic”
(9 marks) nearly actual
.
what goes on
is a “now” and “again”
without ceasing…
a particle-waving
at sea
and to stars
.
an endlessness
born of its end.
All my Words are Silent 