I changed my sex today
and I'll change it again tomorrow.
I walk in the space of a sound
that can't be easily limned.
I talk in a made-up language
of chords and conundrums.
Appearances proceeds slowly, painfully. I'm working on fragment 175. Another 190 "fragments" to go.
After a little more than a year of working on Appearances, my "novel", I've been slowly starting to think poetry again.
I hadn't anticipated how much doing this insane prose thing--if that is what it is--would inhibit my doing what I'd done before/how I'd taught myself to think--over the course of the last 35 years or so.
Writing, on any level, is a kind of epistemology. A kind of philosophy of knowing. That being said, one doesn't always discover one's own sense of things right away.
We speak our philosophies not knowing what we speak. However well-considered our thoughts.