fresh cilantro

the capital of ghana in the seventies

he was a socialist- killed in a car bomb

ghosts of angola, of patrice

in exile, a political refugee

make passageway to the US

if you cant beat em- right?

by the time I met her she was a phd- no soviet union- the dissolution of alternative politcal life- the end of history

english- mr martin (stoned off my ass) 1st period, art history with sarles (my favorite) (still high but burning out) 2nd, the rest i pretty much forget (blame the gaba agonists) but 8 & 9 th period doc Wilkinson 

the freshman let me in everyday, it was for latin 6th or 7th after lunch- which i took on the road redosing or maintaining

she gave me five dollars every day to get her tacos and I would

was it ghana or guyana- they sent the africans everywhere. I was always ashamed to ask

two periods creative writing everyday- thats art school 

everything is political down to the naming of new world plant species

C. Linnaeus upended by imported human chattel

down to the spinning of electrons

Linnus Pauli 

 

if i look at the world

simultaneous 

entangled particles at the opposite end of the universe, that had the opposite trajectory at the time of the great expansion

change

not change as much as become what they always must have- or might have been but for fortune- by the eye of the observer

memory is like this to i believe- recollection effects the material world in the same way

if sawed open and implanted in the hippocampus the memory of a spin (up or down) without anyone knowing which one it was beforehand, the surgeon, the scientist, whatever

and, after anesthesia, the patient woke up and could sucessfully recall this spin, its corresponding entangled particle would

immediately, despite distances, display the opposite spin

faster than light

 

no assurance god doesnt do brain surgery while your sleeping

we move- not forward- but centrivical or like something deeper into it- whatever you call it, spacetime, the ether, the manifold

matrix

whatever

our sin fuges out- density and sits above us

watching nothing

feeling corresponding reductions and oxidations

memory's components

chair is not a Chair right plato something like that

those things were not neuro soup but outside of ourselves at one time

things of themselves without constitution- inverted somehow for relation- for relations pretty much exclusively procreation

oh but they were material to

and the high minded impulse toward the irreducible is a game for fantasy- for memory

what carries on volcano god- descartes, come from god

the irreducible is the baggage of the materialist

fundamental to identity that thats all you can feel

about memory about love

the thing is not the thing but the notion of the thing which is neuro soup

but that notion of a thing, which was composite things, existed in a way to be imparted to memory not as the sum of composites but as the thing itself

how, why

to fuck and make more of yourself

the defeatism of abiogenisis 

how could you love if not otherwise- extant, temporal as something greater than material

a nasty evolutionary trick that leads to suffering

but my memories are privleged and il fucking kill you if you proved to me otherwise- i would walk and eat and take drugs across the fucking earth to get to a headspace where i never heard that proof otherwise

to get through the day

fantasy- the reprieve

memory- the landscape

suffering- the currency

forever and ever

amen

 

worst way to end a poem ever

 

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Januarian's picture

Although this is not the kind

Although this is not the kind of poetry I usually read, I really really like this one.  I am bookmarking it so I can revisit.  Like a neutron star, it is very dense with material---which is a very positive aspect to this poem---but I cannot take it in at the first reading.  I will be back for several more readings of this profound poem.


Januarian

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