The Theory of Speculative Direction

If you were lost in the woods,

                                     a compass would work

better than a philosopher

                                     even if you didn't know

how it all worked

                                     At least you would get

Somewhere.

If you wanted to map

                                     the Universe one

should listen to a shaman's mantra

                                     not plot it out with an astrophysicist

it would be easier to project

                                     realms by means of real numbers

shooting from the lip, a departure from

                                     the same astral plane

                                     bound by reasonable gravity

Altering the scenery doesn't change the view

                                    from the eye of the bespoken

Plato's cave was not a practice of spelunking

                                     to new depths

or sending our souls soaring to the stars

                                     upon plummeting death and worms.

If I remember correctly

                                     the act of recalling can feel like falling, sleeping or slipping

into the abyss of mind matter

                                     a memory palace, a sin chateau,

a cabana for one's mana

                                     and other obtrusive structures

machinations are machines

Like the disgruntled grandson

                                     who built a Reverse Infinity Instrument

(a.k.a. a Time Machine)

whose Free Will Manual Transmission led him to kill

                                     the wise man he so despised

an obviously inane and obtuse conundrum

                                     based on probablies and anti-definitives

that work every

                                     ninety-nine percent of the Time

but that too was just speculative theory

Composed 6/18/15.

Image By A. Ernyes at en.wikipedia (Own work Transferred from en.wikipedia) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons of Kootenay Lake BC.

                     

White noise words

I have sat and watched the ocean

for hours

and years

and while I don't quite know why

I still feel

justified

compelled

in waiting for a reply

for words I already know

will never wash ashore

for me to find

like unbroken sand dollars

glistening gold in the sand

reminds that chasing

never gets

wise by watching-

taking it all in by

each pebble upturned, every

gull and erne, the rhythmic

flap beat and crash, cymbalist

water splashing up word

dancing in wavy mockery

a song whose lyrics

are all pitch and roll

foaming at the lip

while I

still

sit quietly listening

to hear it again

and a-gain

in a grain

in all ways
voluminous, numerous

white words

that tidally summit
and blend back in
singing to sea 

and here, 

the choir. 

Composed 1/23/16.

Image by RicardoUrbinaM assumed (based on copyright claims). [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons (edited).

Bell jar

I have never seen a firefly

in Real life,

but I know

I would want to trap it

in a Ball glass jar

shrink its Universe

clutched in the palms of my Hands

convinced I was all there Was.

And I,

watching it like (a)

God

trapped in there,

until it dies

and the mystery is over,

the spark has gone out inside

so I let it Go.

What else could be done?

I lick my finger

circle it around the lip

and mimicking the sound made

of the world spinning around me

while blowing glass.

Composed 5/17/15.

Image By Kobayashi Kiyochika (Japan, 1847-1915) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Times tourniquet

Last week
I had it all
under control.

Last month
I was excited
about the Future.

Last year
I couldn't wait
to be where I am
Today
yet
I cannot say
it right.

Tomorrow will Be
too much
all over again
and then
another
Year
I fear
of ending up
right
Here.

Image of painting by Hans Holbein the Younger (1497/1498–1543) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

On second hand

I don't believe in capital -T-
Time,
But I do buy time
all the Time
whenever it's available.
And I do accept
watches and glances
but not second chances.
I never used to wear a watch
in youth
that is counter-clock-
wise
But Now
the time I live in
I could always use a great Coach
cheering me to go on
to keep up the pace
And what about a beautiful face-
There's something utterlessly
Timeless
about a Fossil.
And while digging up
memories
and backflash dreams
it seems
my heart slows
my brain knows
the battery is dying
there is no denying
when it quits,
so will I
synchronized
wise.



Image By Watchexpert (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Isness

Something said, It Is
All that I can do As Is
It Is, what It Is.













Image by Fernand Khnopff [Public domain or CC BY-SA 4.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)], via Wikimedia Commons.

The Ends of the Authors we read...

It will be better
for future generations
Now
that you're gone...
You see,
they will be spared from the tragedy
of losing a(n authorly) dear friend, a confidant, mentor,
a loved one
Zero can replace
from (book) end to (book) end
-From America To Italy-
tears between salty seas
I could not be amore triste
(mi manchi)

Lucky am I
to be born too late
to suffer the agony
of losing more,
Italo, Borges, Aldous, and Hesse, all the poets
gone before, so many I adore-
The words cut off, there is The End
of literary legends and magnificent minds,
such as He
Now freed from his earthly libraries
to live for all our eternity.

Image above painting by William-Adolphe Bouguereau, 1898 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Image By Lesekreis, taken 10/14/2012 [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons.

"I can prove to you that every age has interpreted certain events in the light of this apocalyptic text*: events such as comets, cows with two heads, and so on, were all spoken of as signs of foretelling a dramatic day of reckoning for the human race. Specialists are aware of this and write about it, but the general public refuses to believe it. Let's say you have to console a friend who has been destroyed by his wife. The man says to you: 'I can't go on living.' 'Come, come,' you say, 'all of us have been deserted at least once, if not more often in our lives. It happens to everyone.' This argument has never consoled a sad lover. He thinks of his problem as graver than the ones you describe to him. In the same way, the argument that all men are mortal has never consoled a dying man! 'You're dying, old friend, but be reasonable, it happens to everyone!' If he has any strength, he will slap you in the face. So what can you do to persuade people who believe that the end of the world is nigh, that people from every past generation have seen it coming before they did? Do you say that it's sort of (a) recurrent dream, like the dream that our teeth are falling out or that we suddenly find ourselves naked in the middle of the street? No, they'd reply, This  time, it's more important than all the other times."**

*referring to the Book of Revelation
The preceding quoted text is excerpted from the book "Conversations about the End of Time"**

**Eco, Umberto, Catherine David, Frédéric Lenoir, and Jean-Philippe De. Tonnac.Conversations about the End of Time. New York: Fromm International, 2000. Print. p. 181