Tag Archives: #personal

Confirming infinity by empirical observation

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When I tell the truth to myself, I sound like I’m lying. (I hold irrational beliefs. My first-person point of view is invalid.)

I watch my credibility burn with the acid of my diagnosis. I grip nothing. I grasp at imaginary straws.

“The number following 0 is 1,” I report to you with a confidence index that has its own confidence index. “But, will you check my work again?”

Padding my armor with facts, “A breeze is blowing,” I claim. “The sun is out,” I state. “Believe me,” I beg. But I can’t tell if anyone believes me.

(I doubt the sun)

No part of my name identifies me. I’m not even in my body. The Mind of God owns my soul; I’m Their doll.

God wears me. It feels my life with my senses. If I want to be alone, not even He can let me. There would be gaps in Her omniscience.

I know it sounds ridiculous. I know it does. “I know,” I laugh, “I know”… but it is not ridiculous. Specifically, it is absurd.

Hyenas with my nicknames branded on their fur all fight for my attention. Mental sinews snap in tug-of-war, theirs and mine. Teeth grind, theirs and mine. I’m scattered among hysterical dung.

It’s not enough to prove a thing. It has to be measured, Mr. Cantor. Has to be felt by the physical apparatus of God, which is to say, the Material. The Flesh: scientific instruments, my tongue. I will taste what you theorize.

I’ll count out loud if I have to.

Woe to those who recognize their own irrationality. They cannot plea insanity – only plea insanely. They behave like madmen. They are tried as healthy.

Castor reasons with a delusional Pollux. Pollux argues gently with a misguided Castor. Both are certain the other is wrong. As it happens, both are right. They cannot convey the fact.

Steady Creeks

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I could get used to anything, and

If weeks of tedium lie in store,

I don’t mind: as long as there’s a

Schedule; and inevitably I could dodge

Surprise, arrhythmia no longer psychologically

Jostling. I’m optimistic this disappointment

Will fade just as soon as I get situated –

Gimme a second and I’ll sit down with

You to enjoy them: all the sighs we

Settled for. And the broken doors stuck

Shut with disuse. At least they’re pretty

Doors with smart brass numbers. At

Least this new neighborhood’s

Predictable as a pop song. At least

There are some activities in store

If you go check the whiteboard

 

noctalimena

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two kids live on their bikes
one is standing, pedaling
dead leaves tumble clumsy
across the black pavement
it is not halloween
or anything

each different night
has its name, a shade
of black for its nature
for people have names
of sound, but for nights
it’s different

snugged up in our oo
my skin gets cold creeps
when i’m thrilled, then
you read the braille
on my armbacks
with your fingerprints

just as good as an aurora
is an ouroboros inside
an amethyst terrarium
(inside an alaskan zoo
(inside the middle
of january))

life is a gift say thank you dammit

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the buffalo
the baby
the king of the jews
i worship what i kill

i can almost smell the ocean
through the bleach

and at this
i take the greatest offense:
my life’s the second
half of a sentence
uttered by a pair of parents)

don’t worry child
i said don’t fucking worry

there’s no goddess of the bonobos
who punishes the chaste
and the onanist
and the barren

you don’t have to make
babies, bison, sense
none of it

but you don’t get
to not want to

decortication

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the acolytes of science
dictate i cannot reach
emotional maturity for
another couple decades
(by no fault of my own
(by way of my y-chromosome))
so i sob in the meantime
and laugh and sob and
grip my fists in anger
and if you asked me why i
felt some way, i couldn’t say
i might peel my own artichoke
to measure the shape
of my very own heart
but how do you reassemble
an artichoke?

“focus on your breathing for a second”

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wound up
in the present
tense – following my air –
with all this awareness my brain
can watch
my breath
my molecules – all mine – until
a fresh, wet present tense
murders the last
then dies
beneath
the fresh, wet grasp
of a new present tense –
when i try to control my breath
i tense
my brain
wound up as if i were a watch
then, without awareness,
my body breathes
for me

That love which cannot fail to be

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In the way
Infinity contains
Infinite infinities

Or the way
My life divides
Into briefer, lived-out lives

There is a sadness
That branches behind
The green in your eyes

So if you should
Wake up on a train
On its way to Pompeii

And you think you might feel
Lonely watching window rain
Drops wobble and dissolve

But you only feel a sapling sadness:
You’re just living out
One quantum version of me

And life won’t get tough
For a couple more years
So don’t worry

When you get ivied-over
By the branching, lightless sadness
When it’s the same to look

As it is to close your eyes
The god we call Because
Will do the remembering for you

And a love older than life
Will continue because
Living did sometimes feel nice

graceless

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i will try to remember your face
but it’ll be sand on the surface
of the water, and i’ll rely on
dreams to get your smile right
but time will send rain
and then the paint runs.
one day the boutique will
stop carrying your perfume
and the eumelanin of your hair
will pale like a sunfaded photograph
and our relatives will begin
to die around us, still i will
try to remember your face
but it will come to me as pixels
or a monet painting viewed too close
and i will fail to quote you
correctly anymore, and finally,
finally
i’ll start forgetting your name