April 2023
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Monday
I sneezed. A slug came out. One more week… What would I do after a week. To worry and instantiate my concerns? But the here and now is the only moment of which I’m a subject; I have no escape. One is confined by the linearity of time–or rather, the lack of. The instantiation of Continue reading
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Tuesday
In “North Haven ” by Elizabeth Bishop, she elegizes her friend, Robert Lowell, as she observes the nature scenes in Maine. Here, she notes the occurrence of death in the repetitive beginnings and endings of seasonal changes. Bishop uses these images of death to parallel the passing of Lowell, eventually reconciling–or “revising” –her loss. First, Continue reading
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Sunday
The slugs on the street explode If i think it, do i not have it. Continue reading
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Friday
Done my last final exam. Content. Some what at east. Could’ve been worse, could’ve been better. As it always is… one more essay to go. Two days to finish reading Whitman’s 1855 Leaves of Grass. It takes a lot of stagnation for productive work. Like Murakami, I believe in a tremendous talent for working hard Continue reading
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Tuesday
A and B will never meet. Hegel. The synthesis of shadows. I is… another? image? an echo of ephemeral glow, warm and tender in the night No one really meets anyone the constant reduction of micro detail to detail to the picture to the detail and the picture and… the picture is at last, complete. Continue reading
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Sunday
“leave the city behind” an escape. Shadows assuming one has a home an escape means an entrance all of this reduces down to the comparative paradox of knowing something through something else of which the paradox is a part, for a paradox depends on two things, and the other thing cannot be formed until it Continue reading
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Night
I look at the moon And think of the shadows, the Sun, people… ah! Me. Continue reading
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Kissa Tanto
The kitchen whirlsA scalding breath, stirs The pungent sauce, sizzling The rust-flaked pan, burnt. And then the stump of a cough,Corked and twisted,Stretches the hooked feetWith a clatter of images;The light breaksWith an apparitionOf traffic–The shades sheathe in shades. One must devise the ways To trail down the streetLeading… leading… The ground is not ephemeralThe Continue reading
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Tuesday
The wind…like a nothingness blows over me, a yawn, the voluptuousness of emptiness, of the repose of noon, warm in the shadows of the trees. Continue reading
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