“I see the flowers in the case: they are wildflowers, born without being planted, they are beautiful and yellow” –Clarice Lispector, “Soul Storm” Collected Stories
“Memory is not intelligence; to repeat is not to know…” –Jacques Ranciere, The Ignorant Schoolmaster
Part 1: The Sunset
I could never communicate to my teacher what I understood so I let them draw me towards you. The teacher drew me towards them almost against my will, as my will. A will is defined by hip gnostics. Waves of play go where I go, I am meeting the Decider, Judge and hypno-crite.
At one time I thought that this would be like a cloth where something showed up, like she had made contact with something very hidden and unusual like Jesus.
But something was unresolved and I felt like I had ended up in heaven. If I did end up in heaven I would ask the angels to throw me down. That’s how it was when I realized I was superficial. That’s why I was so serious, and, during my campaign for myself I emitted triumphant songs of falseness and growing up, my learning disability enabled me to solve false problems on false premises. I thought about it too much. Technology made too much sense and after awhile so did I!
I do not remember not feeling freaked out, like a bird or a bunny or even a cat, that was the flavor of my existence. But once I was the least freaked out I went into the woods with my friends. I wanted to rub the make up from my face onto empty space I thought was my boyfriend. My learning disability prevented me from being able to reach that and to mark. It was how what I didn’t understand made me attracted to the person that I followed. I didn’t know why, it was because I was veering so much that I was praying. Praying to my executive faculties that were inert and suddenly the power slackened and daintiness prevailed. I remember everything just as it occurred! It’s a blessing. There is a silent grove or what Lisa Jarnot calls “a salad bar.” I hear names with bills and roses. It is a wish off.
Wish you off into a weird time.
But even then yet however still.
What is that edge that edge of the hour like what happens in great kindness when what is shared is born. John and Folly are in love. I hate them. I pretend not to be in love. I do not understand professional work, I understand taking care of people. I forget to take care of people. When? Well this chair is holding me and my pinned down yellow sheet is bathed in light on the floor of my mother’s kitchen. I am hollowing out short and feet with great understanding. Even though the rich people are running us dry. I am turning my face cause giving this learning disability talk I am turning my face into my body and inventing. I am inventing a session to draw you in. Draw you into the dirt on the snow, rat juice. It is a bizarre snow. A bazaar, snow! Snow is as you said it is: good for the kids bad for the adults. As an adult I’m becoming stranger. Everyday I go to the job site and see a whole display. They fold and form. They emit what is essential. What is never thrown out. Why am I writing about ever what am or not. What is it as if to die. I wanted to tell you something tell them even someone to make contact with I just met and saw how you could make contact with and cried when she said the word “sibling.”
One of the writers was hypnotized by shame, which was historical. They made it on a piece of cloth, but it was the room where he was becoming real where he thought in paranoia at dusk with embers in the fire hole. It was like twilight. You don’t have to write a novel. Sometimes we want to explore what is hidden. It has this largeness this tapestry-ness. By accident you’ve spent hours alone. It has got to be a message, an opening, something that got past the gates we said: Who had access to?
Oh man do you see this line of priggish cocaine whiteness that needs to be unearthed as the evil that needs to be hashed out.
I do feel it. It was the blush of heat and the punishing of desire happens when all the ancestors came out. Some of them didn’t translate to future generations very well. Their language was lying around what some would call the dull flame of desire. It is actually life, no, understanding but still like a wildflower arising spontaneously out of space, the worm.
Grey grey dusk a womb for past coming together into this woven good grey pulp. It probably is actually a fairy wrapped in a mosquito’s jaws transporting her warped imagination back to the dullness of men.
Hypnotized by your music, which comes from your experience I perceive your experience as a sensation in a different part of my body from what you gave it with. I feel the wind sometimes and can just walk across the street to the park. I said that I would try to write a story. I would try to write with the present participle as Amiri Baraka wrote in “Hunting is not these heads on the Wall.”
You are more important than your art! Feeling sad you know you are not hiding from yourself.
You were there moving with me in my cell phone. I think you were green. I didn’t know what to say. I paused 35 times waiting to know you from you but it’s not you so I keep going. I know what I’ll say to my kids ahead of time on the cassette tape recorder. I don’t want time to move on but it does. It will move and so I’m going to go with it. I have emotions in it. I only had one cup with which to pick them up. I thought to myself that it was one full day. I can’t afford it it’s organic. I can only afford the unorganic dirt. The organic peas told me to try their new product. The worms were in charge. It was a chaotic time. You know, a pretty “crazy” time. The worms were in charge, as I said. Pavement sank into itself and it was really dirt really this time it hardened as the cars rolled upon it because the cars needed to and Robert Moses ordered the dirt for them and a truck came with that.
I seemed to want to talk about worms. They were hidden and they were about to enter the play that me and my friends were writing. We got right into the dirt. (No single being was man splaining it to us).
Myths are worms and woman and angel fat hairs. This make up and making up going along this wide angle can’t hear hear and feel. Still here the sun is loud finally even though the intense aspects of neoliberalism in the climate was affecting the imagination. There were no two senses in me then. It was a very expensive time. And then we let go of each other’s hands. And there were pieces of polenta left behind and they were baking alongside with the worm (everything running together at that point)
….Back inside a worm almost everything is night talking sees my body glows a wish to act in accordance with the good see through the road to whether it really is dirt. But the worm feeling is something I made up before you know before you know anything. You were guilty because you started to know and you denied it!
Thoughts are moving slow as slow moving. Psychic healing interrupted gotten fast.
Learning disability test, processing enough, disturbed in
A march of pennies you were sitting staring and enough.
You don’t know right? You don’t know exactly where you stand
I don’t and close my eyes and stand.
Sorted through the softness meant something silky it meant it really meant it how it does
it’s like listening to the second cd of Einstein reading Joe’s book, and taking notes from feeling a little bit unease and let it settle at intense feeling wanting to do …
What is it to all to be do
Think of this deep friends, colleagues, wife. You don’t have to be contemplative or alone, smile, Joe, at most of the things you think and do.
The deep sweet voice of your friend
Who are you and what do you want
I’ll commit myself wholeheartedly to peace and to building a loving way of being in the world.
If habit hurts stop and do nothing.
If you’re bad at it it’s like that for you to spy on words not to align it with you would just be tried all over the place. I do believe in guide and where I am my place I feel pizza, sick
I don’t fear the ….wooozy woa
(until we get dizzy we’ll be stuck—Nathaniel Mackey)
Have a fear so NOW the bus brakes. A cat licks my forehead.
The local library with mission architecture rubbed out everything in its margins the goodness of people and sunny patches besides cool parts overly ripe grass otherwise known as shade. The shade beneath the trees I liked a lot. It took awhile inside the Californian café that didn’t have sandwiches like a novel on the page the place where movies are river soup and pine not the reality cramps and cranks me. I do not really know my face it does not really taste me.
She is here even tho I am twine phragmites wind outside soup, I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine
Crackles cool in the wind, the sky over motherered
… we missed our parents
New parents artists most recently met a flash of fatigue and can’t do it it’s fine whatever I admire in relation to this she said I, Learning disability.
what is this an archive
of all the learning without books maybe one but at least can make a choice and die
3. Thought Bridge Swallowed
She was too “inside” that was a threat…
Here is the beginning of the end of the bridge to my thought. It’s like a spoken bud. It’s not what I imagine. Sitting and writing it even in the sun drenched dew of the spoken thoughts around the elbow bridge of the pedagogical turn in thought. I wanted a bridge because I could not see for awhile but then it started to come out and it was time to tell and mixed into the weave of bridge. Do I really believe in writing? Do I? What is that? You know? Is it really the case? Why do I hate? Because it makes me give up my pleasure. John Dewey said experience is good, right? It’s hard for me to process many things at the same time. It’s hard to sit here and do this now. It’s hard to remember why I am writing or who the song is or any of the things I’ve latched onto. What brings happiness? Perhaps that is the continued suffering which is what it is. Once you make a commitment, she said, things fall into place. So she wanted to find something she would have to make a commitment to. And he was there, it was still blurring the lines between commitment and non-commitment….
Some of us were unborn, the risk so convex—they avoided it. And the bridge, it was not brided to me yet. I knew it couldn’t have always been like that in the room there was a TV and in the TV an amgydalla, which was a transbridge silver bus with salmon colored seats rolling among soft sirens echoing.
END: The Little Movie
‘Apocalypse’ the little movie played while we were on the ground laughing about their being no limit to the movie. My peculiar eye went around a sunny road, my favorite actor, Blue Nausicaa. It seemed she wasn’t involved. She was chosen. There on the screen some sea salt more vivid than that. It sucked her up. Beaten and hurt, that was the other guy. His name was Shapeness.
If I could forget how the different the meaningful as if the clear blue bell. Let me forget said Joseph Beuys that intuition is the highest reason. Still convinced soon sat on a bell.
Intuition acknowledges corruption blue lends the science of sound instead of science. Finally hard to say what it was we were explaining in wrongness destabilizing the newt. Coherence comes at a great cost, says Nathaniel Mackey.
Settle into white tables, into office blocks. Each business is important for getting things you want. I don’t want for myself, Jane, my movie date, I want what you want.
Jane: You sound high stoned and cloudy.
Me: Jane! Listen to me: I want you want.
Jane: You that are afraid of what you are.
Me: Jane, please don’t insult me like this. Not on my imaginary broadcast station.
Jane: It’s inexplicable that you should see them now, the listeners.
Me: Meanness to meanness my friend who really sees doesn’t put in a drawer.
Jane: I am all my good things
Then our friend Oliver plugged in ‘the more.’ ‘the more’ is a device. I’m into it. I’m not impressed with its blind talking but then emerge space.
Jane: Don’t go chasing space!
Me: Don’t go chasing anything!
Jane: Don’t give me that advice!
We went/wet to bed. In my dreams:
The pact of pages, the grill instep.
Grill my lies you lies in a contract
we were all
fact of it.
I’m into it.
Your gliding eyes
(Organ eyes) my you we were
mind because loyal to us and you woke on the
back log into the deep night
you followed me to
perceive a thing as safe
as you allow other’s compliments
not my own
Later that wreck
Grandma said garble death.
But grandma I am drawn in orbitude
Yea, it’s awkward. But I love you. Let me touch you.
We draw in draw in finally not knowing.
I am a part of your small catching heart group. Even though lead will never talk to you. Even though the heart catching group from out of time, soft inside the feud branch. Time is good.
feeling is good feeling
go good feeling good feeling go
through gob tho feeling precarious
you precarious for me
precarious every new morning
new precarious and
greater joy huge energy
the precarious slime on the essay close. The
doors sound like boom trucks hitting bam goodbye
See you later. Forget about it!
Stringing together romance actions or getting closer to their subject action, overcoming their parents action shutting down
…curled up at the feet of my grandma, her feet so cold, her sweat very clammy.
Hard for you.
Hard for me.
Feeling bad body came out to appreciate.