daoism, pessoa, human supremacy, patamorality

an increasing number of voices write about heresiarch nogueira as identity explorer, adventurer of the abyss of modernity, even his secular (and nonteleological) mystical attributes*

but there's been little on other core aspects: his daoism (compare for example the book of disquiet vignette 356 [zenith translation] with dao de jing 47 – but there are many such comparisons), his patahumanism** (i avoid post- and trans- and other increasingly commonplace prefixes as they're becoming too solidified, politicized, academicized) – by this i mean his decreation of human exceptionalism (everything talks with everything without meaning or hierarchy other than that impossible hierarchy of the monadism of sensations, that impossible meaning of the infinite chasms among and between transactional communication and the shapes and movements of the soul) and in this sense (though he explicitly and even seemingly implicitly is no ecologist, at least in the sense this word is typically used) he is a cosmic contextual ecologist: a tree, a cloud, a book, a sensation are all one and nothing and everything and something

a difference of course – and one of the reasons he eludes being called an ecologist – is his ostensible amorality ... but this expected perception is linked in part to his neodaoism – neo- by being even more daoistic than daoism through the way not even being spoken, named, alluded – which (also in its expression in the dao de jing and less so but still palpably in the zhuangzi) comes across to those steeped in the judeochristiancapitalistic tradition (increasingly the global human world) as immoral, this immorality though rooted in an often unquestioned faith in human supremacy and expressing itself in our now normalized and institutionalized schizoid cultures of moral bifurcation, confusion, and bankruptcy

* to compare fernando with other notable twentieth century secular mystics: s weil and e jabès for example - the former steeped in french catholic-jewish apophaticism, the latter in egyptian-french-jewish exile poetry. does saint antónio come across as the most modern, the most religiously unsteeped, having most fully abdicated even the negation of god, the emptiness of language ... partially through his relentless subversion of even subversion, his uncanny expressions of disbelief in the belief of the disbelief of belief ...

** and i use pata- with obvious references to jarry, for while pessoa lacks jarry's overt absurdity and iconoclasm (though not jarry's love of alcohol) he carries these traits well, though more subtly and calmly, ironically, throughout his works

diaper dialogues xii

do i doubt night, home of doubt?

day doubts night, i let day doubt through me

your pride is my shame, your modesty my abandon

you look like a mad scientist

what do you mean? – i am a mad scientist

everyone hides in themselves, like memories in dreams. we’re nested vapours

more like vipers

most like diapers

it glides between irrational conceptual tyrannies and impossible tolerances

these extensive resources – variously biased and prescriptive – for myriad professionally dictated conditions. the available resources for aesthetic mystics, however, are only in the expressions of the condition itself – apophatic art, direct expressions of unknowns

that’s some manual

science is a codification of poetry for those uncomfortable with ambiguity

science is a present necessity presenting as prescience

our nescience is our science

what did the mad hatter say to alice?

had matter mared the pater killer a hinge of carts dreamt budder dreams

reality’s lost reality

it’s not only the center that cannot hold

is the mirror really only one direction?

too late

i was feeling masochistic and wanted a dose of your intellectual violence

what you name so glibly superciliousness is rather an undiscovered species of humility

the kalacakra tantra prophesies that when the world declines into war and greed, and all is lost, the 25th kalki will emerge from shambhala to vanquish dark forces and usher in a worldwide golden age

i had persimmon banana almond sunflowerseed driedcranberry sproutedgoldenflaxseedmeal maplesyrup garbanzomilk chia oats for breakfast today

i’m autotelic, hypnopompic, and apophatic – show me a job requiring those skills

i explore the interstitial gyres in the nidi of consciousness and society. having thrived in banking, information technology, communication, pedagogy and curricula, community arts, strategic planning, and policy development, attention is now turned to synthesizing years of research using integral posttraditional methods of analysis and language delivery. knowledge – polyphonic, contradictory, barely human – requires novel ways of derepresentation in this age of the increasing incapacity, destruction, and force of judeochristiancapitalism

want parmesan garlic potato chips

we have conversed

yes, we have conversed

communication is the new nothing

we vibrate in quintessent zeropoint radiation to frequencies of phantom vacuum energy

quintoms for all!

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diaper dialogues ii

some memories ago we were sitting in empty stadium of light, befallen concepts like halloween mini chocolate bar wrappers scattered and everything like buttered dust, the many creatures around like fantasies or exhaust, pear blossoms (or was it bear bottoms?) in the air like ratatouille spilling from purgatory’s dirty green bins, everything like a box of atavistic hope wrapped in athena’s mons hairs which, as reputation goes, are longer than the distance between mirfak and hd 223229, thick as rapunzel’s braids, strong as the alphabet, …

you’re a poet?

a voidist

avoidist?

an avoidist

anavoidist?

an anavoidist

bananavoidist?

an anarchist

antechrist?

an anti anteantianavoidist

poet

i’ve heard it all before

once you’ve heard it all before you turn into a poet

once you’ve heard it all before you turn into a craunched marmoset

which came first, the poet or the avoidist?

marmoset

what did marmaduke say to the marmoreal marmalade on marmara?

this is the way it’s gone today

marmaduke?

it wasn’t funny

the marmoset was a little bit

craunched or uncraunched?

sadoo diaper

sitting in stadium

bear blossoms buttered

everything goes

alphabet empty

concepts like dirty

air like a distance

befallen exhaust

there, history on rutters. it entered from 219 with a couple from the nation’s capital looking like civil servants, never seen madness or poverty but through media. we went with it, poetry tends to

the couple said nothing?

the dude asked a few questions. edited them out

i don’t mean to be realistic – there are so many prefixes – but where did it come from?

219. i told you

but before that?

6a probably

you know what i mean

ultimately no

what about unultimately?

probably no too

they didn’t have that faith in poetry, that it could do anything, that it had any energy or light from outside, that it could produce, alone or in aggregate, even just in the soul, more compassion than cruelty, camaraderie than desolation, calm than ennui. for poetry is not a planet unto itself, lacking relation. and the poem not some form apart from smallmindedness or war

rev bonobo leaves the way gi came, 541, 14, hope like dirty ratatouille, reputation purgatorial (as it is), diaper like a leaf or gum in bleachers in a stadium in homo sapiens, poetry legacy software still somehow running in the os of our hearts