Teaching and movement are instincts.
Light and dark are contained
in their images.
Light is a constant thing that
comes and goes. Dark is
in a hurry and is (always) inevitable.
On account of light we are not
necessarily watchful. With dark
advancing we are forced to advance.
One of and one. (Poem)
The Age of Hoots (Poem)
Sitting in the most relaxed position
I can find, I go into my
professional poet's revery.This
revery acts as a direction-
finder, in it I become a sail
placed in the winds of my mind
and hopefully by the end I've found
the starting point of some writing.
These notes are markers depicting
those starting points.
Conduits are being constructed
between voices. You can listen to
them at the margins. Placed into
type, these wooded constructions
become mannikins you are
willing to spend real time with...
and then, willy-nilly we can talk
about it. Oh, Carlos! I am tracing
the connections between the back-beat and
the image on the screen. Didn't you
have the same hunch I did, that this
is all a screen-test for something
else? The garden fits the image
of eternity. Children are happily playing on
the grass while the earth below conceals
the dead with cosmic sympathy.
Also, do not be afraid of your informers.
Poetics found at the line between
what can be known and what can
be touched. An inscription at the
boundary between what can be
seen and what can be held. An
area is encircled where a small
bit of time is placed on a slide.
Later or much later we look at
it. Again- it is a *terrain* that is
depicted. Some of us stay there, while
others move on, while still others
come and go. I repeat: if your
source of information frightens you,
something is being misconstrued. There it
is again; how many times I have used
this word this month. Earth,
air, water and fire considered
as freedoms. What are the freedoms
of a particlle, a specific unit
of charge in the physical universe?
"Look at the clock which becomes language."
says Tristan Tzara. (*Mr. Saturn*)
An adroit fusion of the obvious
and the repressed, a willing
juxtaposition of the precious and
the oppressed. The revolutionary
as an empowering person rather
than a self-indulgent,
Poetry: nice work if you can get
Poetry: A "foreign" language I
read and write but I don't live in its
I thought of titling this "Sotto voce"
or "Native Land."
At all events, writing is an
elliptical condensation of time.