A terrific confusion has taken place! Look out your window, could it really be? The sun is something you see with your skin because it hurts your eyes to look on it. Of course I think about confinement, fear of my own fascination for large crowds, every day I wake up in pain from deep sleep. Could it be, could it really be? That growing trees indoors keeps them from breathing--
Today I’ve managed to say good morning to God and saw Him take revelry into himself and his angels. That’s fine, oh sure, once during a happy wine-tequila blackout I swam in Jamaica Bay and don’t know what I saw. I woke up in my bed smelling like its fish, and it was so that waking in my own bed felt like cornering a legend behind verity. I’ve lived my VIP days.
Thus with such enlightenment I’ve come to tell you how it is that we are approaching it, THE BEGINNING. You see, I am not confused. I am delighted! Inspired. Waning between the Earth and their party. Who cares, let the angels have Paul’s Baby Grand. In this BEGINNING there will be no room for mortals vs. spirits, or my good, his bad.
Here is how it works: Deciding whether it is sensible to breathe on someone is no longer in the realm of prerogatives. What I put down as purpose is the purpose; I can’t determine how warm my white is without the blueness of you. However, listen to this,
O drum
O myth
O toilet paper and hand sanitizer
The symbol is wasted on you
I am pleased to be the bearer of good news. You don’t have to wallow, why, when the trees outside don’t need you to bloom, nor the sun need your skin to know it shines. Nothing needs you out there. In the end even the pain and solitude of the whole world won’t cause it to stop spinning. Now we begin to see the terrific dust we are, and how well God cleans up after a party.
Ah, leaves. Green which green will be, sick and losing pieces of lungs we’ll be, soft be, no longer in need of disaster be. Every day I run 6 miles in preparation.
Turns out I was right, the quasi-Romantic bullshit of internet poetry would breed our new Modernity. Look at me! Look! I’m ending the world as we know it. Now we’ve all been forsaken, confined, depressed if that’s what you call it. Now stop. Now look at God partying without you. Now look down at the cat down in the courtyard, what does he think? He doesn’t need you. Now squint your eyes. The tree branches look like they’re growing from his fur. A hundred long, thin cat tails reaching for you. Reach out your hands, reach them, and then say you fell down in a poem. I’ll read it.
Tirelessly enough, O BEGINNING. There are no days where we are. Just artificial lights, just plain water, and bleaches to clean with. To further plagiarize Carlos Williams:
There is nothing ! Emptiness stares us once more in the face. Whither ? To what end ?
Surely in isolation one becomes a god. Can we just move on? At least one becomes something of everything. The pictures in the room know better than to arouse me now, when I’m drenched and naked. It’s not immature to believe that this is in the end what it looks like to be dead, in your room forever.
Today on my run I saw the ominous city covered by a red sheet of sunset, nothing happening. I know that to be distant means seeing things from afar, whereas seeing them makes you jump, and heave, and scream I’m here! O City, O magnificent capsule of pulmonary lepers, here! And I came back to my window to wait for the cat to catch a bird, then process it, then sleep next to it under the tree.
That which is the purity of art: nothing extraordinary about you, my friend, even Peter Thiel is on our playing field now. Now the clean branches that the wind blows move sexual, or paranoid, or kaleidoscopically, and everyone sees it. Whither? It ends,
Surely now you’ll stop, and the cat that didn’t think before now sings your songs and you don’t know what to do about it, except smile, except push language forward, and tend to your trees who want to breathe outside more badly than you. Now you see the terrific dust we are! To what end? Nothing needs you, but if you say it striking it ends--
4/2/2020 2:16AM