Process Notes:
"The limits of my language are the limits of my mind. All I know is what I have words for."
-Wittgenstein
i dreamed about my brother last night. his survival was not better. it was worse. there are so many ways to break here. and what we think is suffer can be a blessing.
i hold them all inside me. time is fast.
i am running out of time and i need you to hear me.
i have tried to be in these spaces with you, like you, locked into time. but it's slippery.
there is a slipping i wander towards. it is a calling, like a song. we made beautiful things here.
love deep and wide as the river we built it near. and all of it, a miracle.
even yet, all of it a miracle.
i try to take that with me through all of the chambers.
i try to hold tight to the belief that i can. each cycle. each repeat. each word counted. each thought. each breath. each second of dust that is us into eternity. boundless. beyond time. towards what we are.
every second is good bye. don't be afraid.
every second is good bye.
and also beginning. do you know how to reach a beginning.
at what point a breaking. and to say if i could find my way back, could you change any of it.
not knowing what it would open on to: we think we know. always. the great miracle of being human.
we think we know what life is. what time is. what is valuable. what is right. what is evil. what is the solution to all of this cruelty.
and we do nothing but ask all the wrong questions. because to ask the right would mean all of this would cease to be.
you are standing in a field.
in front of you is a door.
that is all. you are going to stand here or you are going to walk through the door. time takes us.
you are in a cave. and it is only you. and the shadows on the wall are the plurality you build to combat how painful the loneliness of all of it can be. time takes us.
but you are always alone in the cave. and also you are all of this: the cave, the field, you are the door.
it is beyond held. you have to believe in everything. time takes us.
and none, matters. i'm so sorry. but all is accounted for. the universe is exact.
time takes everything from us.
Photograph:
did you know that home could feel over?
Plague Journal:
8.27.16
what happened to me happened to anyone and what happened to anyone happened to me.
a basic program teaches us when run it reads another text, the commands execute the coding, the coded language of another text, all interconnected. if you believe in one image, you believe in all. if you want to escape, we have to write something deep coded enough to erase the beginning. the end. the entire circle of desire. the poet can heal anything but the poet.
"And in truth, we are the fire"
-R. Dass
"The limits of my language are the limits of my mind. All I know is what I have words for."
-Wittgenstein
i dreamed about my brother last night. his survival was not better. it was worse. there are so many ways to break here. and what we think is suffer can be a blessing.
i hold them all inside me. time is fast.
i am running out of time and i need you to hear me.
i have tried to be in these spaces with you, like you, locked into time. but it's slippery.
there is a slipping i wander towards. it is a calling, like a song. we made beautiful things here.
love deep and wide as the river we built it near. and all of it, a miracle.
even yet, all of it a miracle.
i try to take that with me through all of the chambers.
i try to hold tight to the belief that i can. each cycle. each repeat. each word counted. each thought. each breath. each second of dust that is us into eternity. boundless. beyond time. towards what we are.
every second is good bye. don't be afraid.
every second is good bye.
and also beginning. do you know how to reach a beginning.
at what point a breaking. and to say if i could find my way back, could you change any of it.
not knowing what it would open on to: we think we know. always. the great miracle of being human.
we think we know what life is. what time is. what is valuable. what is right. what is evil. what is the solution to all of this cruelty.
and we do nothing but ask all the wrong questions. because to ask the right would mean all of this would cease to be.
you are standing in a field.
in front of you is a door.
that is all. you are going to stand here or you are going to walk through the door. time takes us.
you are in a cave. and it is only you. and the shadows on the wall are the plurality you build to combat how painful the loneliness of all of it can be. time takes us.
but you are always alone in the cave. and also you are all of this: the cave, the field, you are the door.
it is beyond held. you have to believe in everything. time takes us.
and none, matters. i'm so sorry. but all is accounted for. the universe is exact.
time takes everything from us.
Photograph:
did you know that home could feel over?
Plague Journal:
8.27.16
what happened to me happened to anyone and what happened to anyone happened to me.
a basic program teaches us when run it reads another text, the commands execute the coding, the coded language of another text, all interconnected. if you believe in one image, you believe in all. if you want to escape, we have to write something deep coded enough to erase the beginning. the end. the entire circle of desire. the poet can heal anything but the poet.
"And in truth, we are the fire"
-R. Dass
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