"Monday
Me.
Tuesday
Me.
Wednesday
Me.
Thursday
Me.”
-
Sunday
The slugs on the street explode If i think it, do i not have it.
-
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…
-
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.…
-
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…
-
Night
I look at the moon And think of the shadows, the Sun, people… ah! Me.
-
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…
-
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.
-
Monday
School is getting harder, not by its workload but by its engagement with other things that has nothing to do with school, by its extension into the real world, whatever that means. It’s not just school anymore, everything is becoming real. more and more real. Work, people… future… The extension of people, like the root…
-
Blues
The sun creeps into the room,The sun creeps into the room,The dust sweeps the room like a broom. Sometimes, a shadow creeps along the street,Sometimes a shadow creeps along the street.Sometimes the shadow and I meet.But as long as it’s a dream, But as long as it’s a dream,That’s only the way it seems. What…
-
Thursday
Even the most insensitive, numb human being knows that the repetitive sound of a word leads to a resounding sense that numbs the receptors and stagnates the nerves and their ability to absorb information. For instance, Poe’s “The Raven” with it’s “evermore” and “nevermore” is obviously used to emphasize the persistent haunting of the narrator’s…
YuHeng's blog 