November speaks
in grays and hushed blue
now drowned out by demon-
possessed December,
with flashing red
and dyed green,
whose true whites are painted over
with whiter lies

Belief in God is a kind of hope for a happy ending, that justice will prevail. A good hope. But that there is "a" Justice that could prevail is the hope reified into to a single and simple ideal, its platonic form, found nowhere but in being a shorcut from everywhere. The sad, self-contradictory part of that simplified, singularized perfection, is its propensity to be raised above its present, complex, unsigularizable life, and made eternal, to the detriment of whatever imperfect happiness and justice may be possible now.

neologism #72:

hairrific

The universal language of beer

mutha chucka

gats ma beeya

wukked haad

aoo dai

reddy fo sum shiia

confucious says, "erection of scrotum."

look for a circular sentence

that can lead into itself and be

able to

what if zie germans

had won

and still the now: !

turned out

identical to the now,

now: !

how dare you?

not possible!

how dare what?

fuck possible!

it was impossible

to win

and yet

we did

(well, they did. who did. someone did.)

won?

nothing seems

to happen when

I think

a lot seems

to happen when

I blink

Life is in the blinking

"Man" is in the thinking

Awesome neologism #23:

"Vajungle."

Bumpersticker idea #9:

"In case of rapture, I'll still be DUI."

(Yes, I realize how offensive that is, but isn't "this vehicle will be unmanned" even more abhorrent?)

T-shirt idea #14:

"Masturbate much?"

is there something about memory

that distills the past, rarefies emotion

purifies delight. lonilneliness. hope. wonder... textured all, and

somehow evaporated are discontentent

ennui

and the present banality of the very same(? aforementioned) sensations

such that the present is so short-changed as to force the question

is it something about neurons?

what a question, given that once,

beside a love

I saw a shooting star tear

the whole sky from top to bottom

is there something about memory

that if I eschewed my present love,

eternity would crown her queen of every tomorrow's past?

what synapses, holy

holy

but my paradigm tells me it was actually a meteorite and that

for all I know

all the stars might already be dead

so,

if I say,

whatever interacts is part of a greater whole

is that bar one of a grand metaphysical narrative

or am I practicing English grammar?

or can't it be both

each sunrise all rise seeming new
yet same blue sky persists in blue
come clouds again again comes gray
til older sun stains old war’s day

you have chosen to resist me in your very spirit

and yet we are the same

I see deeply

as do you

I hide nothing and yet

you treat me as a liar

it is just a game in which

I have chosen white,

and you black

let it be that

me and you makes we

a trinity