Snow Showers

On By NW FilbertIn Writing6 Comments

Snow has a love of detail

like the aged obsessed

with the young

.

every crevice,

nook and cranny,

limb or leaf,

even planted veins

.

all are surface

to snow

which goes to show

about trained attention

.

you get to try

and decide

what is love

and what desire

.

what comes

together

to keep

snow falling

Word Drunk. Like Birds. (or, noises from a cabin)

On By NW FilbertIn being, change, communication, Embodiment, Experience, Journallings, Language, notebooks, Semiotics, thinking, Uncertainty, WritingLeave a comment
“Word Drunk” (after Jim Harrison, et. al.) Like Birds. (or, noises as languaging as experiencing)…noises from a cabinDownload

Pornography

On By NW FilbertIn Writing3 Comments

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.

Polysemic Stupor

On By NW FilbertIn Writing3 Comments

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.

Polysemic StuporDownload

“Now” “again”: or, desire in times of control

On By NW FilbertIn anxiety, desire, human, Language, Perception, Poetry, time, Writing3 Comments

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.