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He-da-sein
Da-sein constructs anecdotally on other men.
He was well dressed and particularly liked his tie.
And what has changed his mind? Withdrawing from commonality
had been so reassuring to the hard chaos of language.
She-da-sein
Da-sein consummated her love with a boy that's reluctant to knit
chaos in the grass or mumble admissions of primeval tranquility.
Estranging her ownmost breeches, polite is her world of
young pronouncement, her primitive literature.
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| [Poem|2] |
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Science vs. Paradise (knowledge is cutting)
The desert broke on a brick wall.
The boys, dust in their mouths, heavy with gear,
toppled over the other side
and lost their boots in the mud that caught them.
Air congealed in their throats
as lemons and roses.
Dizzy, waddling,
Matthew cradled his gun and touched his tongue to a leaf
wet with rain, bristled along its edges.
A prehistoric trunk rising into the sky blinded them in green
yellow pearls of space.
They shivered in the quiet absence of birds.
Pink fireworks swayed on fragile stems
purple, candy beads
leaves frosted like lime cheesecake
drooped and dripped toward them from shadows.
"Ridiculous," said John.
Matthew nodded and stepped in his wet socks,
leaves stroking and drenching his sleeves,
toward a curious but predatory orchid.
"Creepy," he added,
clipping the bud from its stem.
They stood back to back, resisting osmosis with the atmosphere,
twitching with every sway of a vine.
"We must go about this scientifically," John began, "if we are to make sense of it."
"Make it into sense," Matthew added, whacking the ground with the butt of his riffle.
"Our preliminary methodology," John continued,
"will be to uncover the foundations of our wilderness."
He tossed the grenade into a snake hole.
The tree, rippling outward in a purple floweret,
quaked through their feet and disappeared.
"Splendid."
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| [Poem|3] |
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You are the Peach on my Desk. I hit it with a Stapler.
The amorous subject postulates a love interest.
His heart will be colored like cherries,
like the veins in his eyes
after I drop a rock on his head.
Exuberant with the budding of possible loves,
she considers his appearance.
If he is taller than 8ft
I will pirouette under the bridges of his arms.
She contorts her toes in a posture of anticipation.
If he is shaped like a gummy bear
I will poke him with a stick.
She pulls a knitted hat over her eyes.
If he is shorter than 4ft
we will play leap frog.
She kicks her cat off the bed,
and moves to ponder the routine of dating.
In the summer we will eat walnuts,
run into trees,
and throw ice at babies.
In time her image curls, yellow at the edges.
As the ice melts
it will start to rain
and I will run into the house.
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| [Poem|4] |
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Paint is on the bark
Megan is painting a tree stump. She spreads
cosmic insects out of her palms, starry
mosses and floral equations crack
through her ankles and up her teal skirt.
Soren-the-math kicks down a tree which
he stabs at other trees, a bear, his grandma,
and the groceries. His tight shoes tight walk along
the fence, the ice, bomb crackings and broken glass.
Chelsea, insister of swing sets, two steps
above, kicks yellow petals up and down stairs,
floating with her knees beside dragonflies
etching perpendiculars to the lake.
Then, at a barbecue of food things, they
swish their summers into paintings underfoot.
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| [Poem|5] |
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scribble shadows
Take two sips,
drip the bamboo brush in the bowl,
bomb the table chocolate. Stand up,
raise the kitten to the light
And drop-kick slowly.
Ditch your teardrop to rain.
It is a lazy business. And the love affair?
Snapped shut, skipped and twinning
like your biological father's
Fall fashion subscription to Science.
In snow, the winter flips to formula,
The bears are comatose, the trees are dead,
and you're awake before the candle,
sketching lines that were little animals.
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| [Poem|6] |
(You is a little daydream.
The narrator can't deny that he agrees. )
He is lying
about what he said in the paragraph before, about the denial,
but the reply doesn't sound like a lie. The detachment is
a kind of beautiful naked wife isolated from its lonely tool.
Ambiguity where we'd most appreciate a full description.
Again, the narrator withdraws in solipsism
and charcoal, with the calm beauty that other people touch
to their biblical, knitted intentions.
The anti-heroical subjective is in the garden with the nonrelational riverbed
thinking about death, the wind in the square, societal constructs, and the autonomous
truths that are
illusions about which literature communicates into darkness.
"We live, as we dream—speculating
about which construction of language to express."
After he returns he shoots The Modernists
because preoccupation begins with the bible.
He takes the bible literally, like knitting and embroidery.
Maybe death indeed should feel ashamed.
Instead, almost automatically it appears. It's freak ideals
just seem ignorant.
Near the end
a strange desperation takes possession of the nonrelational riverbed.
Hoping to be cleansed, she runs the rain in metaphors.
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| [Poem|7] |
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[Lexical poach of Catherine Wing's, Enter Invisible]
Courtship Explosion is Tripartite:
1. to Kneecap Splinters.
2. to Hootchie Koochie.
3. to Peanuts.
1. "Toodles"
The lark sings
a deposit of love
to his milk maid.
He is agony of sauerkraut,
She is chewing gum.
He is insufferable underpants,
She is purr of fructose.
He asks
for colloquial striptease.
The kick is aeronautic:
a wicked streamline
that sugar plums
his walk to a legless roll.
2. "Sweeeet."
Alabaster,
lacking underpants,
filches the gum, the fructose,
whispers pitty-patty
in ghost ink
to milk maid's wall of intellect.
This crumbles to the sea
by which they Mazurka, daftly
until Lightning-
insemination.
Baby escapes
by makeshift helicopter.
3. "Ole!"
Switchman
astar of the coffin
meets milk maid;
flips headlong
at sight of her
water balloon
arching toward him.
He's fond of her religion, wanderlust.
She's fond of his shadow, drenched.
He starts the count of tongue flusters.
She counts his I.Q. bubbles.
Baby returns
with photo-album.
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| [Poem|8] |
Aristotle on Aesthetics
From his Metaphysics and Poetics
Now natural comings to be
are the comings to be
which come to be
by nature.
(and thus natural things are produced).
Now obviously youths are not to be instructed
with a view to their amusement,
for learning is no amusement,
but is to be accompanied
with pain.
Now everything
that comes to be comes to be
by something and from something and comes to be
something.
And something
which I say it comes to be may be
found in any category
qua reason.
There is further an art which imitates by language alone,
without harmony,
in prose or in verse,
either in some one or in a plurality of metres.
This form of imitation is to this day without a name.
It may come to be either a 'this'
or of some size or of some quality or
somewhere...
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| [Poem|9] |
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Blove
B: I know you wanted to catch that pony, but the neighbor's kid got to it first.
Love: Bluh.
B: It's ridiculous, somebody your age needing a pony to be happy. Remember when we got married? Remember cake?
Love: Buh bluh blah.
B: Cake is insalubrious. There must be some form of alternative recreation that will bring us pleasure!
Love: blaaaah.
B: The Aquarium!
[The car won't ignite.]
B: You left the light on!
Love: Bluh bluh.
B: You did. Again, you're going to spend the afternoon studying the politic bugs in the windowpane, while I journal about the disaster of marriage.
Love: Bluh?
B: You would be more interesting if you had a pony, but it's too late for that.
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| [Poem|10] |
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Da-sein's experience of the love and the death of others
"What is love?" The question awakens expectations of a discussion about love. This we will forgo. Instead we will take up the question of a few instantiations of love in the being of Da-sein.
The Existential Structure of the Authentic Potentiality-of-Being Attested to Bunny
Da-sein follows obsequiously its bunny,
Ferguson, of a brown, speckled visual aspect with elongated ear-parts and a foofy tail,
as he gallivants on the slippery wooden floors,
until Mother, flatulent and furious, resisting bunny's affections,
accuses him of perfidy in that her Easter goose is befouled-by-paw-prints,
wedges a ripe fruit in his jaw,
and smites him for dinner.
"Death" as a familiar event occuring within the world
In the publicness of Kindergarten Da-sein is confronted with 3 instances of human friendship, but, in the exaltation of discussing his own-most non-relational potentiality-of-being not to be bypassed, he fails to warn them about the falling tree.
The potential for being-a-whole of Da-sein when confronted with loss of girlfriend
Caught in the everydayness of commuting-to-school and thinking-about-death,
Da-sein is thrown into the presence of a female with burlap hair-bows.
Mood brings Da-sein before the thrownness of her "that-she-is-there,"
cold sweat soaking the inside of its shoes.
Anticipation reveals to Da-sein its lostness in everydayness, and that its extreme inmost possibility lies in giving itself up and thus shatters all its clinging to estrangement and certainty.
He approaches her with an admission of passionate wonder.
She squeals and turning, slips down a hole in the street.
Thus Da-sein uncovers the peculiar uncertainty about death: that it is possible in every moment.
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