a dialogue with father william

TH_E P^O_ET AND M^ON_EY

a dial^og_ue with fath_er william  

(in elusive instalments)

Your only asset, desire, is the common trade of everything, so you cling to its value as if it were the supreme and only good, denying its tortured past, the raining thorns of its present, the whimsical frenzy and blood of its future.

You extract desire’s tweets and smiley faces, place heaven on one side of the scales of lonely justice, automobiles and securities and veterinary-approved dogfood and penetration on the other, and find them equal.  You bury desire’s night, its true and other side, in two dimensions, in the planet’s unpronounceable names, in the video of nature.  You launder it with expedia and booze and the registered denial of night.

You purchase culture as a mask to cover the maggots of your face.  You drop art like an addict, as if its names could save you.  You hide behind the towers of noise, in selves of fearful nothingness, a sleight which only works because of our mass hiding, an efficacy requiring years of education to accept.

These are the necessary lies that are truths not from their falsity but from their necessity.  And if we were to imagine another necessity, would it be as false or true?

Little can be said concerning the destiny of humans.  Yet isn’t this all we speak of, in the flashing carousel of words?

This gap, between the vastness of what cannot be said and the vastness of what is, i call our sadness.  Isn’t this gap the poet’s home and the death of gods?

Money is the bridge over the gap between the two vastnesses, the soil of gods.