I've received several messages and I
feel the necessity to let you know
about them. Several messages from
the furniture- particularly the desk.
I'm going to translate them for you.
Not take me seriously? Not glass
or drunk or hours or whispers after
confusion, let it up, not teasing or
what- I - need or where-to-go or
little colors? Humpback, he's back,
or a kind of use for terribly, let
alone, signals, a kind of move. Up
the stairs, or, too familiar, let me
alone to name it a star pointing
towards to take a circle. Why spend?
They collect nouns, things. In a
hospital. Translate the dream into
a bunch of rooms in a house (a
building?) Whose shapes? And get
angry about color about whatcha callit.
Out of gloom. Take an object. Heals
it. Once called it a serviceable
chair. Hum chance. Low low lose.
Low hum. Bleeps out of the simple
shape before the brain yells "usage,"
take it, ornate as the illustrated
castle, this stands for that,
easily sliding into a perspective
laughing at kinds of time, drifting
on associations, star-pointed,
ruby still, long lasts a week
or weddin's sunk, slunk,
slinking, slinging. No, I don't
no. No no in a dream, the text's
a chance. No bets. The professor
is quiet. Out to the bar. Games.
An accurate phrase. Out of
phase. Listen in the light of what
comes next, not what came before
that but what's next as what's
Abbreviation, not "of what?" a
mouth opens a bit on "art." Not
taking pain seriously. Uh-oh.
The house has finally become a
constant thing. The items wouldn't
coalesce but seemed to dominate
their spaces independently like
unconnected telephone poles.
If no one calls I'll call it a hat.
Each separate wire, individual
substatements strewn around. If I
put this together with that, sailing,
and go around the house, "I dub thee
Arthur, pillow," another splendid wall.
What was said? I noticed the
utterance but I think I misunderstood
the intent. But was I looking for
hidden meanings again. A slap,
slapping waves, slapping the face
with aftershave, slapping your legs.
They were unshaved. After him. They
go after him.
Something uncovered. A photograph.
No, I'll never say she went out.
They don't speak to understand this.
You have to make friendly. I begin
with child's language, a glow,
excitement, attempting to stand,
peeking. What's that? In red.
Below a charge. It explodes.
I'll elude them. Dot dot dot. I
forgot the morning, slept, the
dog & then shopping, laundry,
small disappointment. The two
sarcastic commments converged: one now,
one weeks ago, added up to what? It
was nothing, but still. It isn't a
goddamned puzzle. A long loving look,
then remembering what a bitch she can
be. That should make me laugh. A
small, jumpy bird becomes the
emblem of a search.
In the code to be accepted as a
given or do I dispose of it entirely
and subsitute suspense. Either not
knowing & just speaking or substituting
a metaphor for what I don't know &
proposing we both don't know it but both
do, in a way, we have all the
information & try to guess.
No event too trivial to write about.
The more trivial, in a way, the more magical.
The attempt to change someone
from being cold to being warm. Also,
decorations, arabesques, as in Matisse
and Gauguin. The encounter with horror,
rapid change, shifting modes of
interpretation. Mirrors, laughter,
morbid satisfaction with pain & fear.
Ideas or about ideas. Concentric
figures of concentration & comprehension.
Ideas stretched out, elaborated. Word
and picture, word & object. Spoken
language. Protons, nuclei. Danger.
Spools of thread. Covering space.
Covering space or lowering space
each decision need not be monumental.
Allowing for the arbitrary, the
ambiguous, the shadings of exactitude
and restraint, the wish not to
choose. What is the exact measure
might be more than what I thought.
Exactly what I wanted. Silence.
Unbelievable incredible silence within
which all is in balance.