could it think the heart would stop beating

the dangers of decay are the dangers of a sentimentalized fear

mysticism is psychic holography

lifes goal seems to become as rotten as possible so that when one dies theres nothing left to rot

i have no rest from a consciousness that primarily seems conscious of itself as conscious of an anarchically diffuse and paltry consciousness

i must tremble if the possibility of play no longer attracts me

the plant intrudes in the human and speaks inside

dying is a mode of seeing the invisible

holding within word

languages of earth

the only legitimate autobiography would be one with dozens of prefaces introductions forewords postfaces prologues preambles epigraphs afterwords prolegomena conclusions postscripts addenda with little consistency (thematic stylistic chronological …)      no body to speak of

hornbook of sadoo hirpyz

for those new to planet earth

and

wishing instruction in the ways of the human

a brief version of a multivolume treatise on the practice of law

to prime students in the application of dimensions and the geometry of time

through case studies

in this age of relentless and pervasive light sound communication our craving for the darkness of incomprehensibility increases commensurately

i do not renew i denew  i am full of denewments

transcendence is the mathematics of the souls geometry

writing literacy from literacys grave

the world              make your voice count

i                             0 17 81 257 912

this month this time

january is sleep and death and dream

i travel to sad, snack on terror,

wash on ruins

everything talks but only the trees listen

they keep their secrets

each day i count the seconds of extra sun

it is cloudy most days

i dream and sleep and die

where are the schools?

not the analysts, pills, doulas, degrees

but the classes of dying dreaming sleeping?

there – the trees, they are dying

the sun it is dreaming

the earth it is sleeping

let me learn from them

can i reach them? can i see them? can i touch them?

they are here, in my body

in my deaths and dreams and sleeps