| 88082101 |
Clouds are psychic raw
materials, sort of. (Just as, say, the 16th century could see lightning but had not
vocabulary or concepts to discuss electricity, we don’t have the vocabulary or the
concepts to perceive and discuss the nature of clouds.) |
| 88101501 |
Explanations which omit
the heart are either dangerously limited or wrong or both. Duciel’s Razor. |
| 88110301 |
We suffer from profound,
provincial onto-centrism. We share existence with multiple entities and
"realities." |
| 88110401 |
The intense specificity
of this reality tends to blot out even the possibility of other realities. |
| 88110402 |
The unbidden guest comes,
offers gifts, expects nothing. The Magi. |
| 88111601 |
At root’s end
the very microscopic tip
how do you tell
where tree stops
and earth begins? |
| 89032801 |
There are differing
degrees and qualities of separation and distance (expansion? extension). |
| 89032802 |
Empathetic congruence as
a means of tuning. |
| 89071001 |
Those burdened ones, they
are donkeys who see big loads and who believe big means heavy means important. So for
them, the loads are heavy, and as years pass, their backs sag, their faces are etched deep
with care and exhaustion. Truly, they hoard their share of the countless burdens which
pass onto and off of their backs, and thus are metaphysical Republicans all, cherishing
the gold that is dross. |
| 89071002 |
A butterfly dreaming
she’s a man? A woman dreaming she’s a butterfly? Either, both, neither. Change
the fucking channels, Chuang-tze, or turn off the TV altogether. |
| 89071101 |
Somehow from the rowboat,
I design and build an ocean-going cruiser. Other continents await. I set out, only, after
some years, to shut off the engines and drift, and drift. |
| 89071102 |
You have a thousand
audiences: clouds, trees, even the stars. Ham it up. |
| 89071301 |
Though many come, few
enjoy. |
| 89071302 |
Every age has a powerful
vested interest in its own barbarism, of which it is childishly unaware. Reagans we shall
always have with us. Both of them. |
| 89071701 |
How do I learn to listen?
By being silent.
What of my chatty Western birthright (I think, therefore I am)? |
| 89071702 |
The familiar waves enter
my feet, move up, perform an unexpected arabesque, then begin to spin front to back around
the crotch. I start to interfere. Chou-Yi comes, draws my attention away with a full
embrace and kiss, held, as the spinning accelerates. He is never forward in this manner. I
understand the important of not interfering. Only when the spinning light is
self-sustaining and very rapid does he let go. I resist writing this—trivial,
uncommercial, obscure, silly—and see not capitalism or Marxism but consumerism as the
real cancer. |
| 89071801 |
It is not I that dies,
but the world. It is not I that you kill, but the world. |
| 89071802 |
Lao-Tze: "Stealing
the light." |
| 89071803 |
The center is here; the
center is elsewhere; the center is neither here nor elsewhere. |
| 89071804 |
The doors are unlocked.
Always. |
| 89072801 |
One thing that would help
China is less fucking and more sucking. |
| 89072802 |
Art is metaphysical
travelogues. |
| 89072903 |
Science tries to outwit
nature. Philosophy tries to out wait it. I, to wait it out. |
| 89080701 |
Balance. Balance. |
| 89081401 |
There are ten thousand
kinds of fucking. Our barbarous animalism, our vaunted, flaunted materialism makes us
think there’s only one and it’s cock-cunt. |
