10.29.2014
Correspondences: 10/24/14
Dear A.R.
"What will we do about all of this feeling?
this incessant self-awareness that
leaves us so terribly exposed
what is the meaning of it, what purpose could it possibly serve?
to know is better than to not know
honesty is, objectively, the best policy
Alonestly
but still, the question remains
What Will We Do About All of this Feeling?
and does it sound like an album title? Perhaps just a single. A cassette.
I know you feel like I do sometimes
drowning in simulation data
and all of that feeling
(not the one, but the many
"feelings" like a soulful hum)
all of that feeling is a dull signal-roar
that you can't make sense of
except that it feels
So what will we do with all of this feeling?
can we filter it
and make sense of the noise?"
Your thoughts
if you will
write soon
E.B
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[Correspondences: 11/3/14]
ReplyDeleteE.B.,
"How your poetry runs
as an undammed river
while I still speak the stone's
song, the hollow melody,
that empty rumble, watching
as your cloven foot stops, then
goes, then stops
again. You are an entire
species, simultaneously
singular and plural. I watch
with envy, count your syllables,
then — quick, you're
gone.
When was it I saw you last?
Or, more important, how? In
a landscape painting, distinct
among the brush strokes? Quiet
among the hurried horse-hair grass?
Or in a cloud of smoke,
your vestige climbing
quickly, effortlessly above
the city, getting lost in the
indifferent geometries of the clouds?"
(This answers nothing,
but prefaces all words I've
ever spoken and will
ever speak to you.)
With great love,
A.R.