Tuesday, August 13, 2013

A Vision Against Philistines

Do we imply future action when we use the present tense?
And urge our pure mystery / to send/ sent/censor/sensory, to be touched, there it is
Are you addicted to chaos?
Do you pay the cost to be the boss?
Do you know your beauty?
Does it speak through you?
Do you cough when you lie or sniffle or cry backwards, or not at all
Is truth abiding so soft in you every step is a caress, lewd, almost pornographic, a surplus of velvet wit from a prophet, never superfluous, is it like that? 

There are 250,0000 people here and 400,000 sheep, and we're not sure what to do with them.

Do you find your dead father's friends and ask what he was like, to them?
But I don't believe in death. In english. We live in a new language
Do you go into a trance of likelihoods and come out good or God?
Is he like a drug? 
Does he weep inwardly too like Walcott, like must not want to be seen inventing water?
Had he forgotten like twins at birth, the difference, and then had to learn it more acutely?
Does he show up at rehearsal?
Does this water give back those images?
Which images? Which ones are ours and which ones paint the hours as windows?
Who knows? What's the purpose of all these riddles?
To have distracted the fakers from themselves and their quiet auto-surveillance, valence, not valiance, and then?
Do we imply present action when we use the future tense?
Who cares. The answer is always yes. We get better and better at contradiction. The eyes relax on their own essence and turn against it in order to view it, and then they know it