THREE
“It is untangible which means that the tangles have been taken out
and there is a reason for their not gradually getting stout”
(history or message from history) G.STEIN
mind in the whole body
full
with what would never fill in
the right moment of happiness
for being here and nowhere else is like saying:
I’m nude in a complete solitude
head tossed against the walls against
the bark of trees so as
to slowly move
on to work the one of words
a name here which is not her name there
left to the careless they are annoyed not very
Is history the stranger that grammar will never marry?
Is Mary the memory of a love letter?
Is hope the realm a bounty of disappointed wishes built?
Is this writing by accident?
Whether failure or falling it happens where pens are not happy. But patient.
At most: sphere. We’re not the earth’s inhabitants.
We live in a bubble of babblings.
a body in a whole mind
emptied
for a breath to come in
buried as if a root
when the eyes are searching
for light
say: I’m nude in a full cosmitude
NINE M D P (for Menu Design Psychology)
(after Gertrude Stein’s Christian Bérard)
As an appetizer
just a question of subject
whether eating or being eaten
whether in passive or active mode there must be
a subject
and cooking is at stake
through all kinds of “****-ical” recipes
you decide for a side or you are sided
you act or you are acted
you voice or you are voiced
dish or dished
yet
why how where when are rolls of bread
to accompany the meal
and dressings are made of out and in and over and below and above and …
…
while choosing à la carte don’t forget
ingredients of consciousness are spices to be used cautiously
you don’t want streams to flood the narrative to excess
in this Pantagruel-like trial
judges and the jury
are poor entrées
along with having them reduced in the frying pan
bringing to a boil the many he and she and it
will never simmer
any delightful dessert
except and only to the extent that
such
activity is permitted by
whether neuro- ego- or being-laws
only with and together preparation will do
TWELVE Wishing Well (after G.Stein)
“It is not a range of a mountain
Of average “ …
It
is not
a range of
a dream of average.
It’s an average dream.
A broken dream as any
dream is when you wake up.
Night after night it’s a mountain
of dreams that you pile up. You add and you
get an average height for your dead dreams as any
dreams are because the eyes are unable to play them again. I’m not speaking about an average woe of climbing a mountain step by step never looking back never going down the steep when hope supports you all the way up. Hope might be an agonizing dream. There are casualties in it there might be an unnatural truth in belief. Faith is a blind unwise living dream threatened by mercy. Mourners are dreamers having drifted their hands from air to water this is just what I wish to say. Just an average of unimportant nightmare. To be broken. And you wake up. At the top of a mountain. An average mountain._____________________________Do not fall.