oh am I still and forever hunting there is no whatsoever
Monthly Archives: May 2007
There is a subtlety in all this writing, subtle refusal to let go. Subtle refusal of the whimsical the circumspect the lack the luck. Subtle refusal to charge off in all directions. Subtle refusal to mentor the young self into immersion. Subtle refusal to merge with the white whale
Resting consciousness and sparrow comes to visit. Sparrows are efficient. No timetables, no project plans.
Not concerned with what I used to be concerned with.
Speech is ill-considered and dangerous.
Soil resting in the sun, plants are busy. Plants don’t need a path and nor do animals.
There is a picnic table, it is wood, and an umbrella. It goes through a hole. And it is hot, organic, and resting in the sun.
Abridged luxury. And I am NOT online.
Let me ask – how much do you know, is there compassion? What is knowledge-based compassion? What is argumentation? What is keeping quiet? To never lead you to believe that there was too much talking.
may 31, 2007 lunchtime
Flying into the air. Nothing here but words. Oh my ice tea, avocado sandwich, chocolate bar. 70%. Dietary happiness.
I am mad at them.
Stone blue eyes, steel and Georgian silver. All is gorgeous.
Her friend Rafael. I don’t have a dog, there are no stories of him anymore.
Attention. Quality of attention. Lies to recreate to reinforce the hard rind around myself.
Barbecue all day Saturday we will be mowing the lawn.
I am sad. Little girl with pastry, mother talking on the cellphone. Unsweetened. Men doing crosswords with raised eyebrows.
The book I haven’t read yet, haven’t even started it.
Markers. Stream of bubbles where it all went down.
I write to dissolve, to learn how to dissolve.
An effort of mindfulness. Velleity. Volition. The will, the right intention. Touching on these things, my bird claws grasping round the twig. The whole tree shakes. Or is this a story?
Unwieldy Characters. Awesome characters that I will try to separate. An effort.
Dreams of misbehavior in the presentation. Dreams of sexual arousal. Dreams of dreams. Dreams of washing, dishwashing a large green rubbery container, unwieldy in the soapsuds.
may 31, 2007
Timesheet. Front Porch. Armchair evaluation. Interim Patience.
It is nice to jettison almost all these things. Full garbage cans and full recycling. Being present, remembering myself and my stomach full of gel and wanting to be somewhere else not here not in the parking lot.
What about a CSP reunion? I am undecided, in a murky turmoil.
Shock of Ron Ferguson’s reference to Gail Godwin’s novel what it was. About coalescing, coming together and apart, Monrad and Rob in trouble, what about Joe, what about Warren?
Feeling oversized, overwrought, overcome. Feeling feet in shoes. Feeling a non-yogic sluggishness, untoned qualities creeping in and the mind is coalescing.
Feeling mountain in my legs, train in my direction, gladness in my pelvis.
I want the jewels. The fiery heart of jewels. Topaz, citrine, aquamarine. I want to investigate the heart of the ruby emerald sapphire. Wisdom, compassion, purity. Okay. Something higher than a mountain.
I’m not sure what time it is. The anxiety of the future has me in its grip.
Covered with azalea, peach, yellow, orange. And pink, red, purple. It is the time of year.
What else would one do, where else would one go? I am dismayed.
Well, this is a form of discovery. A forum. A process. Why do I make comparisons. She is struggling. She is struggling with the form. It is daunting. But what else is there?
may 30, 2007
Tuning up, a discovery, a path of order. Birdsong, cars starting to move. Exercises. I am in. I am out. No I.
Flashback to Nantucket and The Bean and
the anxiety of my last day there and not so long ago.
Rhyme Rhyme Rhyme rhyming one-stroke here we go.
The Efficiency. The Effectiveness. Your review and my review of your review and my interim of your interim and intermediate does not mean interim and I would never not step forward to clear up that mistake.
Where are we going with it, what is the next step? The next next next step. The first step already taken. Words left out.
Evoke, evoke, evoke, the egg.
may 29, 2007
Hot page cool breeze. Birds and juice. Death in the air, creeping. Suicidal Ideation. Nothing but pleasantries, a need to scan the lines. Rustle woods, the deer step, squirrel shuffle. Peculiar disconnectedness of individuals, editors, the edited smile, the censored speech. Pileup of phrases. The litter of prepositions, the punctuation of punctuation. Texture of voices and air conditioning noises. The bands and patterns of tension. Often I ask: what are you talking about? What does it mean, the transfer function?
How far how far loosening pressed into discovery
the enso pressed into making something whole
and something closed
turning C to O and that is CO
not OC except it starts here
I at the bottom oops and that was I
black flies in the golding light
the piercing chirp the here-I-am of jays
the coo-coo mourning the obstreperous chirp of sparrow
and no crow no crow not now and
with the comprehensive smell of garbage early train
this is an approach
app roach
a pproach
Sore throat and now nowhere to go with it
no where now here nowhere
now here no where now here
no where now here
okay okay this is a trick of time
I am sleepy I am escapade I am trying and I am embroiled enmeshed in software wanting hard to order paper dreaming of a touch of handmade paper khadi paper and a morning watercolor made in the land of garbage and the land of smells.
This is my life what has it come to what I am learning is something different I must say it is draining it is lanced I am lanced and oozing after Canyonlands and Arches Park. I am teetering on the edge and struggle to make something when there’s the skyline halfway clothed with leaves and a suburban brightness in the air with sounds of water gurgling and a morning goldness in the air and a suburban cheeping with a hum of traffic while the dog rests and the flying bee whirrs by.
The smell of garbage mixes with a hint of lilac this is it I will not write
Make a sign of the singing telephone the whining plane the oozing telegraph the miserable surrealist stuck in his nonfunctional parlor dreaming of Guadalajara. Was it parody?
Grass on my sleeve
Gaze the hard g followed by the hissing z
Or gauze or geshe or
the thrashing doves The sign of
why don’t we all go home to the drowned home with the backdrop of garbage the white elite the bored the this the that
Mercy
no rhythm
no awful
no silly
no sentence
no courage
no dependability
no glancing
no gazing
no call
no dependency
no tooth
no braids
no exoskeleton
urge to travel I will travel and see wondrous things like towels and bats, howling cats,
prattling monkeys, whale skeletons and towers of ant with garbage backdrop and
insect afterscape
I am off the bat. The boat. Boating an activity of many while they are still the middle class
Bhikkhu emptiness here in
suburbs son sprawled out
in light at 5 am this is
a ticklish dream wrapped cold
around my torso cold and
drowned around my torso
dog tickling and jiggling
jingling here him sniffing smithing
Three pots of herbs well one and two of emptiness
Small and without punctuation although
the sky is pleasant forming I am not alone
Having tea and toast face raw with bugs
alarmed
Need well something. I am in need this morning. Some new habit some new privilege to be awake and early writing with backdrop of garbage and the smell of birds
I am expecting. She is expecting in a voice so juicy with disgust or secrets I hated the way the syllable “pect” came out of the mouth oozing with gossipy fruit juice The word is ruined forever as is duds as is a lot of words like revery. Need the poets to reteach me.
The I is overwhelming here and now in land of birdsong 6 am the cheep the chirp the dark quilt on the wall alonso allons sie alliteration awfulness I am expected.
may 28, 2007
Halting pages. Tumbling trembling. The -ing captures things as happening things. Alliteration. aligned with Dogen avoiding capitalization language forming sentences no declarative I declare, no comment Alleluia Amen this is how I end it
Here I go and there I go,
I’ll try to rise,
I’ll try to rise,
I’ll raise my eyes,
I’ll all surprise,
I’ll stall the lies,
I’ll steal the whys . . .
Oh that is it and tonight the Dinner Party a casual affair.
Flooded with resistance like a blinding light.
How do I dare.
Do I how dare.
Dare I do how.
Dare how do I.
You are a zine, you are a zone, you are a megalith. The signs. Hiking to observe the signs. The craftsmanship of systems, we are in a monastery, we are monks in cubicles, with our practices our forms, making up our disciplines and our discipleship.
Try to be direct, try to direct, the team, the leadership. The common, the committee, the approach, the aftermath. Amazed. I am amazed in grass in weeds in yard work. The root, the colors, the shapes, the tiny “M”, the way things are happening. A tiny phone in a tiny hole. Rhythmic remarks. The tiny mags, the page turners.
may 26, 2007
This is for me. I am you. I know you. Inherit you, absorb you, bless you, blow you, notice you, bill you, make you, shake you, take you. Take two, textures. Take two, territories. Take two, talk to, talk to you, yes I am having a nightmare I am having a disability.
None of this material was ever here.
None of these objects can be licked.
None of this writing can be read.
None of this talking can be heard.
We’re not sure we’re wanted on this planet.
Busy women clopping by in heels.
There is some default, not my fault.
Fault and fault and fault.
The spring of faults and restitution.
I am out of synch, off kilter.
There is some compression of the spine.
There are a lack of general principles
and analytical reach. There are.
My precious treasure.
I know I am halting. I know I am making it invisible.
I know I am policy, relying on the policy.
And this morning—wrapped in the cleanest sheets of calm.
And still worms tackling.
Wishing for a voice.
Wishing for a voice.
Dreaming of comfort, dreaming of collapse.
No dreams, not at this time, no.
Some compression of the spine.
Almost done.
No, not quite.
I thought I saw one of the many Scotts twenty years later,
twenty years ago.
She wishes for answers, application.
She is a term of art.
She is a piece of work.
No facility in the hand this morning.
Children wearing gray and brown. Wishing for grey gardens.
may 25, 2007
Undo, undo, undo. Redo, redo. The present always seeming trendy, up-to-date. My jaw, my gland, my stars. My capability.
I am resting.
You are privileged. This is a practice. I see my coworkers in their cars driving to work. I see them practicing. I see them wanting to be happy. I don’t see them composing. That’s how I enforce the differences.
Hindrance adaptation. No antidote. Off the bat. Off base. Off with her head. Off I go. Fuck off. Jack off. Jerk off. Joke off. Well off. Composing. I won’t write composting in comparison.
I demand the freedom to misuse punctuation. The further
I go, the more perfect I get. Microsoft Word a continuing hindrance.
Desire composes. Composing, composing. Greed, hatred, and delusion. Putting away desire and grief for the world. Burdens. Putting away the burdens. Freedom is tranquility but composing is not. Composing is agitation, discharge of mental electricity. Composing, composing. She is a random fragment.
may 23, 2007 Wednesday 8 am Starbucks
Stealing time. Stealing it and hiding it in a perfect hiding place. Buried in a perfect dirt hole. Tell you how I miss, tell you how I miss my objects, tell you how I miss my dirty objects. This is like a gaping rawness in my heart. This is like a virgining of the flowers. This is like rotting. Don’t want that habit. Objecting to the purity.
We have a get-together. There is a relationship with the page. We have not shown that to you yet. More to be revealed. Discovery is suspect. Discovery process is pigheaded. Nerves are jazz. Music is the instrument. Tuning is resisted, this is discordance. This is the dance of discord. This is a sort of hyperbolic naming. This is a frustrated desire to name in an overnamed environment. This is afterwords. This is the wretchedness of the beach. This is me being me, and I won’t apologize. She says “Excuse me, everybody.” She says “Sorry.” She apologizes. Her voice is a snake and hers is a frayed carpet. A stalled carpet, crumpled in the infrastructure. A plan, a cornucopia. This is disaggregated. This is a collection. This is a hard time. This is opportunity management. This is a to-do list, a task list, a watch list. This is a water path. This is a box. This is a box of books. This is enjoying my handwriting. This is an addiction to form. This is a crusty rind of moldy sentences. This is an appearance. This is a disappearance. This is an over.
Imperialist. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Global Entity Master Database. Master File Project. We insist on a Master File. A Rosetta Stone. The damage is not apparent. Evolution denied. Invalid principles. A style of agreement. A style of nodding. A politeness. A reputation for irritability. A command of your tongue. Here is the cycle. I will approach you. I will sign the deal. I will get organized. We will go into production. We publish libraries. We teach. We are flabbergasted. We flout, we fail. We make Powerpoints. We are adept. We are an accounting standards board. We are widespread. We are afraid of the floors. We deny the floors. We deny the presence. We ignore the presence. We are masked. We are leftover.
We do not cotton to that.
We exude mystery.
We frighten with your quiet.
We are a Buddhist.
I will ask why. Ask the hard questions. Adapt.
Not even in personal writing do I feel comfortable with the imperative.
Underwood. Undermountain. Mr. Undertree. Mr. Underworld. Underfish, undersmoke, under the weather. This is a cloud. This is a tornado.
This is an ancient cache of figs. This is early agriculture. This is unclothed. This is pristine.
This is what for. I will give you what for. What for?
What is it? Questions. Answers. Paralysis. This is a point. This is a letter. This is a word. This is a story.
She is sad and discouraged, head resting in her hand. Head in hands. Objectionable behavior. Pressed into a diagram.
This is the geometry. This is the measurement of her. This is the slippery slope, the slide. This is the choppiness of commas. This is the desire to relax. This is hunting. Hunting for badgers. Hunting in puddles. Hunting under the microscope.
This is looking. This is devising. This is an insult. This is non-allusiveness. Allusion, illusion. Protrusion, contusion. This is desperate. Separate. Disparate. Apparent. This is desparent. This is disappearance.
may 17, 2007
This is a false mystery. This is a place. This is an aftermath. This is a play. This is a break. This is a logical diagram. This is handwriting. This is an effort. This is the chirping of a loud bird. This is a GPS. This is too bad. This is a memory. This is garbage. This is unprecedented. This is a portrait. This is a holocaust. This is a small village. This is incurable. This is this. That is that.
Some things I don’t have room for. Titles. Organizational structures. Some things I have a talent for. Some men are women, some women are men. I have my own clients now. I’m managing the project. This is my practice. Practice management system. What is manageable, what is unmanageable. What is your sentence? Linda saying. Job interview. I will ask you a hard question. Your job is to ask the hard questions. Change management. This and that. When are we on the same page.
Com mun i ca tion
Se man tics
It’s not just semantics. I will blurt. I will micromanage. I will be an addict. I will repeat the question. I will get the job done. Please.
may 15, 2007
Lost luxuries, lost goodbyes. Lost opportunity villages, lost forever. Lost and found. Once was lost. Now am found. Find a lot, lose a lot. Remember. The memory of forever. The memory of Rembrandt. The awfulness. The offing. The offertory. The the the How repetitive. Mind is cramped, contracted. How to land. Wanting to land on an object. Wanting to observe theory. Observe theory. Observing theory. Notheory. Nothery. Nothing.
The Amazon River. The big river, the small people. Adaptation.
Silences. I won’t tell anyone. I won’t tell anyone. I won’t tell anyone. Blossoming of lies like bindweed. This one doesn’t trust hate like a fool.
Choking sensation in the solar plexus area. Driving sensation I interpret as a need to be alone. Desire for code, the secret code that expresses how and what I understand. My children are not fat and both are bald. That’s over that’s enough. Embedding secret line breaks in the work. Choking sensation in the lower throat. Anger’s like a cavity in the chest.
She doesn’t want to do the “right” thing, just create a crisis. “Ask the hard questions.” And who was so careful here? And who gave such good advice? And who worked through tears watering the pity plants the plants of plot the plot of price the price of play. And who uses paints? And what’s the picture?
may 14, 2007
Lost luxuries—lost luxuries of isolation, roaming, leaving home. All the diligence, the discipline it takes, the spending and the strengthening. Part of that muscle just wants to collapse. Oh wait, that’s not the muscle, that’s the mind. What is the ethical muscle?
Happiness. Counting the days, the lines the minutes and the hours. Yes, yes I can see the Buddha in your mind is angry. The smells. You can’t deny requirements for meditation, you can’t deny the leftovers, the bowls, the cups, the glasses, the hard litter of the kitchen. You can’t deny your stomachache, you silly westerner, when are you leaving? yesterday? Someone made a study of her punctuation. And so long arriverderci after all amen.