the songs i do not know (iii)

Tell me the songs you don’t know

Dan Beachy-Quick, Of Silence and Song

Light…makes some things seen, makes some things invisible

-SIR THOMAS BROWNE, IN B-Q, OF SILENCE AND SONG

iii. inside the other

.

i walked

caves, hollows, holes

reaching in

wondering, wandering,

exploring

.

wherefore?

in whom?

this forest-stream-mountain

rain

cloud or animal

species

perhaps kind

world

.

else

.

eye, crotch, finger, part

leg, mouth, buttocks, cleave

begin

in prayer

darklight arithmetic

and and and

also

more

.

a line

emotion

an happening

or even

event

what is called

beginning

again

what feels like

entering, entrance

entry

way

.

fuel

to the opening

.

i walked

in prayer

singing

nothing

known

listening

still

to answer

.

call

response

(“Tell me,” she said)

of songs

you do

not know

(“i don’t,” i said

i do

.

begin

again

before

where now

already

The Songs I do not Know (ii)

Tell me the songs you don’t know

Dan Beachy-Quick, Of Silence and Song

Light…makes some things seen, makes some things invisible

-Sir Thomas Browne, in B-Q, Of Silence and Song

ii. “Tell me…”

bluebell. jay.

joy. blank. block.

blur. when.

what?

how. where. ever why.

now

it is very

most unknown

not knowing –

i don’t;

breathe

.

cerulean. youth.

abstract. asunder.

i wonder

what for

then

when now?

how does

one tell

not knowing

unknown

always

it sings

knowing

(its’ icon)

and melody

The Songs I Do Not Know (1)

“Tell me the songs you don’t know.”

Dan Beachy-Quick, Of Silence and Song

“–knowledge is made by oblivion.”

Sir Thomas Browne, in B-Q, Silence & Song

clips, or snippets,

the known as partial

notes

signifying

the experienced

gesturing

hymning (nearly celebrating)

its reverse –

everything

unknown

i didn’t know

the sounds of

as they were

always changing –

ever never

.

so i made noise

my shapes

transparently novel (novice)

windows

framing, marking, visibling

all i do not know –

every word an icon

view-finding

all it’s not

.

Image

Sound

Landscape

Intention

Meaning

Clarity of

.

definition

None

.

thus every song i sing

i sing of what i do not know

or hear or dream or feel

i think

but do i tell of songs

i do not know

or sing not knowing?

.

would i recognize

unknown

song?

do i?

sing?

.

it’s hard to tell

meaningful questions

from questioned

meanings,

meaning

tones

notion

her eyes

the water

sky

adroit

wonder

or passion

.

not known

i sing.

Language/Life

This is the same struggle – (LanguageLife)

this mis-match, trans-mesh, between media (their mediums)

.

A woman arrived – beautiful.

First thought: why isn’t language like her?

no – why isn’t language Her.

The difference. Media.

Eventually I felt this about music, painting, photography.

Eventually I felt this about perception, expression, myself.

.

i.e. Why isn’t one thing another to the same effect? Why doesn’t one temporally unified multiplicity (perception) correlate adequately in another?

.

My writing, these shapes, lines, movements, and possible sounds and touches and sayings are ever as real as hers, (equal), but not her (different) <in so many ways, sort of> <and not many ways, kind of>

.

There is animated material in motion with layers of perception – interpretation – impression / meanings. And here as well.

But they are not the same,

metaphorically, experientially, actually.

And they are.

(We are, species-level, carrying similar realities in similarly leaky containers).

And we aren’t.

  • Effect (1)
  • Affect (2)
  • Mode (0)
  • Artifice (N+1 / N-1)
  • Occurrence Happening Being (=)

We are.

And aren’t.

Same Difference

.

Language lives. is alive. is not life. is life.

As also language.

And not.

She and I are. And are modally identified. Materially.

And are categorically for many striations,

same.

And not.

Effect. Affect. Also same difference, everywhere within scales. Eventually, no difference?

Eventually…only same? In a thin layer, deep and thickly.

Undone. Coordinated.

Same difference.

eventuates:

AND – – – – OR – – – – NOT

(same differencings, as each require equal potentialities)

.

Endless.

This is a slippery slope of a flat plane.

.

Therefore I love the “Book of Idolatry,” “truth,” empirical methods! Same differences, endlessly, potential, infinite variation and similitude. Swerving curves of identity deranged.

Lo how the mirror distorts in its clarity.

The painting clarifying distorted.

Voila.

Another.

The same.

Again.

Differently.

.

One might suppose differing due to activity – close circle – if static could be posited or possible we’d see (as we are seen). But seeing is active. As is that seen.

therefore, indeterminate

that is, knowably unknowable

i.e. uncertain in its certainty

Voila!

What?

same difference

BEING

matters

November the 24th

Lydian

The summer

almost always,

so hard to endure –

warmth, light –

no solace

no protection –

only so much

undoing

is possible

in light…

heat

.

The autumn:

a young child

aging,

deteriorating,

dear demise,

desiccation,

something almost true

to fact

.

The spring –

its delusion,

deluge,

as if there were

a coming-to-be,

or fascist utopia –

with

all the bells

and whistles

.

Our winter:

discontented,

and good –

solidity

of presence,

sweet ache

of living,

being,

held,

in place

.

I love.

“I is Another” (or pronouns as shifters; after Jon Fosse)

Like the first,

the every new

dependent of change;

agent of again,

now this

.

the starting

that continues

into while

.

its struck

and tumbled

and keeps rumbling

a murmured name

.

an other, again,

an I, again,

iota, (the smallest mark),

now this

On Thinking

jackrabbit mind, dashing –

here thick grass of nothingness

there a frenzied masturbation –

to and fro, quick left, jab right,

the daydreams, grief,

and absence fore and aft.

It’s a wonder, this pondering

machine, unhinged

of its bearings, moorings,

bodies baring everywhere

and not a drop to think.

What drives desire?

Seems pushed and pulled

and craven.  Erotically

erratic, playing at its gloom

“it’s nothing,” says the mouth,

always caught between

the breathing and the axons

blood swelling pounding through.

The feral hind leaps out,

ruminate sparkle, devious

flux of concept, fact, or notion,

swimming in emotion,

nothing known.

Alias V. Harlequin, remembers (via language)

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I always wondered at my naming – “Alias V.” Not knowing where I come from, and finding all locatable Harlequins tricky and at play.

“Alias Verbum” – who would name an infant that? Another name, a word. Also known as, logos. Usually I identify as iota subscript, after Robert Frost.

No one knows my origin, but he’s very hard to find, everywhere, continually on his odyssey.

i‘m reading a book entitled “How Words Make Things Happen.” What have we made? Ideas, spells; subjects, objects, and actions. Incantations all. Beginnings, I suppose, but not the first.

As I understand it, aging along, someone had to be there for me to come about, and coming-about would be my story. Who or what might tell it? Acted, sung, or read? Becoming other after other after other. Known again as… by any other name. The player. The trickster. The Joke.

In the beginning was… and I began, an alias of something… and everything its word.

With Out

I never had to pay for words

yet how much my words have cost me

.

There is (there seems to be):

.

Experience.

.

I am insufficiently prepared

for it.

[how each beauty hurts so much in joy]

I am.

.

Ever unprepared:

.

Experiencing –

.

always sourced with outside

and ever without sides,

filled up, as is.

.

This is

.

Differing to ‘I am’

An other

Any

other

.

All thens

and equaling nows

complete without –

.

the wolf howls

bear bellows

in woods –

.

my lingering past –

.

with out.

.

somehow

I never learned what words are for

so

I begin

.

Again

almost