OVERPAINTED THRESHOLDS

Sad ecstasy of shadows
Coming into me.

*

All or
Nothing leaks out.

*

Limitless limited bodies.

Statues made of noise.

*

Buffering….buffering…



Overpainted, stained,
Smudged, smeared,
Scratched, half-erased pentimenti.

Your voices
Shadow mine.

Streak of color.
Cadence of speech.

Borders aren’t
Always apparent.

Buffering….

Borders aren’t
Always available
Or mappable, documentable.

There’s something
About networks.



There’s something in
My overlapping senses
Of things.

I didn’t want
To comment (or
Commit) but
Couldn’t help myself.

The noise
In me
Is undimmed.

Voice-overs.

You say
You want
For nothing.

This you,
This I
Are most
Peculiar constructions.

Talking to
Oneself in
Speaking to another
Is a kind
Of reverse ventriloquism.

The dummy lives.




How much

Can one
Listen to, embrace,
At once?

How attentive
Can one be?
Is this
A test
Of worth?

I am
Not beautiful.
I am

Not you.

*

How does one
Read a poem
Which is
Crossed out?

*

THISISALADDER
THISISALADDER
THISISALADDER
THISISALADDER
THISISALADDER
THISISALADDER
THISISALADDER
THISISALADDER
THISISALADDER
THISISALADDER
THISISALADDER
THISISALADDER
THISISALADDER

*



Tools, moods,

Rooms, food.

*

A sonic

Thing that

Thinks is

What I'm

Talking about.

*

This heaviness

Is unlikely

To be

Lifted soon.

*

Spaces one's

Inscribed upon,

Scratched into.

*

Swallow and

Swallow again.

*



Thresholds, tongues

Held. Hell

Is self-consciousness,

Thoughtless nests,

Nets or

Knotted chords.

Notes leak

Out of

What surrounds

One's aporias.

*

What is

Thinking called?

--Dancing, war,

Sex, writing?

--Being, language,

Maths, noise?

*

I had

A seizure

That I

Don't remember.

Tore me

Apart, put

Me together

Again, rearranged.

*

Drums and

Guitar mirror

One another.

Attention, practice

Always entwined

In exchange.

*

Wherever I

Am you're

Someplace else.

Location,

Location,

Location.

*
Unsteady
State. Presences
Out of register.

*

Torso in mirror

Receding faster

Than it appears.

*

The world
Is overseen
& underheard.

*

If philosophy is psychosis
If poetry is a ventriloquist act
If the robot’s notebook pages have been filled out and overwritten

*

What surrounds
One’s aporias?
--Hauntologies?
--So-called nature?

*
Formula fiction skillfully
Fondles pleasure centers.


*
“Entanglement” means any set of conditions.
“Entrapment” means a condition.

*

What is the price of ambiguity?
What is the price of exactitude?

*


Nature scares me.
Human nature most of all.

*

One has
To acknowledge
The irreducible.

*


What about
The Body?



*




My Robot

1.

Here between
The global
&
The local
I dream
(anesthetized).

My robot
Just arrived
In the mail.


2.

The package
Opens
From within.

My robot
Emerges grinning.

I take
Its place
In the box.


3.

My robot
Opens the box
I am in.

Our eyes lock.

“Happy Birthday,”
I say.

*

*

No thing
Isn’t connected

To some
Other thing,

To some
Unexpected thing.

Separations are
Social constructs.

*

Is there
Such a thing
As unmediated experience?

*

Where to
Begin again?

*

Sensation isn’t
A territory.
It’s weather.

Waiting is
The story,
Oratorio, opera,
Tap dance.

*

I’m not
Protected against
500,000 definitions.

*

I am
A series
Of interruptions.

*

Inside and
Outside all
The time.

*

My Robot
Is one hard
To parse sentence.

Try, if you
Want, to diagram
Our relationship.

*

Everything is
Virtual in its
Own way.

*

Buffering….

*

Will he
Sample me
Today or
Will he
Sample me
Tomorrow?

*

Robert Duncan, in "The Venice Poem," writes:
“The world is false as water.”
I’ll never understand that line.

*

I’ll never understand any thing.

*

What is thought’s object?

*

“What do you know?”
Was a common greeting
When I was young.

The formulaic reply
Almost always:
“Not much. You?”

*

Does anyone
Think much
About cultural
Assumptions anymore?

*

Irregular spacing

Is a symptom.

*

What is
Not broken?

*

That fucking copula…

*

The relevance
Of specific
Individuals.

*

I keep
Deferring stuff.

*

The realm
Of “as”
Or “ass.”

A truly
Slippery slope.

*


Where are we
In this mess?

*

Messages are
Being sent

But are
Rarely received.

*