To Be Silent and Speak

I wait and I sleep.

As I silently wait I walk.

How do I walk?

I walk silently.

I sleep little, because I dream,

but I dream quietly when I sleep.

..I'd like to talk about it because its boiling up inside me, I gave up journal writing, because I thought my life was boring. I kept my thoughts though. My autobiography is a history of my thoughts. My thoughts have been useful to me, not right aways though. They seem to need a while to gestate in my notebooks; until, with enough time they reappear and combine with my current state of mind to make a form, or something whole, something I send out into the world

Balance on the centre of a sound until you fall to dream

I was born a fool, and I will grow old a fool, I will only become more devious.

Continuity

All agency is with the auteur, and I think that this is a problem. I don't want all the control, I don't want to know whats coming around the corner, I want to be surprised like my readers. How do I get myself not to look? Sometimes authors can write a novel or a story in such a frenzy that they say they feel like a channel for the story rather than its author. Is that what happens when the author manages to loose control, or lose control? How much should an author read, how much should an author seek adventure?  Well, I bet you these are bad questions and false choices, although they dominate my mind at this moment, I am sure I will ask them of myself again, and all the while keep writing, just as I have before and today.

We are so tiny.

We can't accurately estimate how much we know, nor how much there is to know. I suppose though that the totality of knowledge is proportional to the volume of the universe. But never mind, pride comes before a crash, and today it seems pride is considered a virtue.

Yourself Writing

Come on please,
It's all about you, all about me.
and tonight pretend to understand
people like you,
who I am,
walk another's walk,
in your shoes.

Can I know myself,
when I can be no one else?

A self writing and a self on the page,
a voice on paper and a voice writing..

Man's Offer

I'll put my favourite place into my pocket
Where ever I go favourite place

and take up tonight
and pick it up

and tonight
hold it so close
to feel you breathe.

Stephens St

Yourself Writing

write what you don't know
write what you imagine

you will appear anyways
and still you will write what you know

don't know what you know
write

write what you imagine
imagine what you might come to know
teaching yourself what you know

come to know writing
come to know yourself writing
write for yourself

My Doubts Come Running (Fragment)

My doubts come running 

but they walk in with a sigh

to tell me all the doings

of suspicion and good sense

Up Early

Madness is uncertainty. The cold water daylight sobriety test is chilling. Night is a dream, always a dream. Madness every night doesn't worry much, rather normal really. During the daylight hours if you've cast and set maniac you'll know. Like a sensual mirror you feel yourself as you are. Wake up early, for reality, it doesn't last past noon.

holed up in intellect

the equality of mediums in regards to their material to surface relationship

artworks present to us a surface

so call up the substance, the material under the surface, and

subdue the aesthetic facet

flatten the image of the thing and highlight the object

make the object the content 

holed up in intellect

im red in the face from trying to hover even an inch off the ground

So i stand up and go into the world

The Great Burden To Speak

To pull the great potent concentrated contents of language to the surface and smear them on a conversation,

and on an item, on a rag paper, on the street. 

The city might then move with the pulse of words

as directly and as violently

as rape, 

as robbery as assault. 

The great terrifying crushing weight of words might be felt.

Threatening Words