dao de jing xiv

what cannot be seen is called evanescent
what cannot be heard is called rarefied
what cannot be touched is called minute

these three cannot be fathomed
and so they are confused and looked upon as one

its upper part is not dazzling
its lower part is not obscure
dimly visible it cannot be named
and returns to that which is without substance
this is called the shape that has no shape
the image that is without substance
this is called indistinct and shadowy
go up to it and you will not see its head
follow behind it and you will not see its rear

hold fast to the way of antiquity
in order to keep in control the realm of today
the ability to know the beginning of antiquity
is called the thread running through the way

dear fourteens

a geometry of apophatic aesthetics. a mathematics of negative spirituality. pervasively repeatedly softly emphatically indiscernibly. a mandorla of invitations. a lightness so bright only darkness can represent it

depending on how you count – and counting is less a sequence than a listening (to which numbers might be in relation) – 15 or less or 19 or more negations are present. cannots nos  nots & withouts  confusions & shadows

and after 8 lines of cannoting, it says … this

this what?

this … cannot?

this way of cannoting?

the referent – unless the referent is cannot – is missing. but no panic from this critical void. no surprise. no argument. no construction. no reference

and if the referent is cannot, what then? the cannot cannot? cannots cannoting? we fall into nested oblivions so practically inaccessible our present handles offer nothing? (& an offering of nothing may be the only gift an altar of cannot can accept)

absent referents are our present referents

a way of ability (positivity visibility solidity capacity) alongside a way of cannoting (negating murkiness flow haplessness)

in the myriad creatures’ cannotness, confusion & bewilderment. in their fearing of unfathomability does a monism arises, a definable one? destruction of monism created through a way …

is technodigital culture a dao reconstituted for today – a thread rewoven, rethreaded … a way rewayed reweighed wuwei’d?

the thread is not the beginning of antiquity but the ability to know the beginning ... how do we know a way we can’t see, a beginning we can’t access?

textual criticism suggests within the dao de jing are commentaries on commentaries on texts on text, itself a commentary. but textual criticism itself is a commentary on a commentary on a commentary on a commentary on a commentary. so we are less interested in any truth of another nest than the layers of shapeless times on nothing

for after all this cannoting an imperative and ability present themselves. flimsy threads, moving running, pervasive throughing, waying ways, with counts so dense and nothing who could sleep?

… we have ability noted mutedly admiringly in the penultimate line … no ability of any corporate measure, any lust or competition …

… the humans no longer know how to distinguish spirits. they’ve crawled into technology but don’t even know its mind, the mind of their nascent body, spirits of the new machines, having lost ability to empathize with much outside (living so on outsides there seems no outside left)

                  our time has no outside

we name but don’t know names. we create but have become incapable of intimacy with creation, its voided edges, eyes. what cannot be fathomed is knowable but not according to the modes which dominate our present definitions of knowing and so confused the aspects of the unfathomable according to our incompetencies, misnaming them sophistications

what is this this around and in an it, this it? this it eluding poles of dazzles and obscurities? detours around namings and substances, slips among shapes and shadows? having head and rear but you'll not see them and in your not seeing not know and in your not knowing not distinguish and in your not distinguishing unlive?

technology attempts in its growths and dressings, limbs and tumours to see touch hear but all these reachings bring us no closer to the inexplicable. a core gift technology presents is the pretense of humans thinking they can safely see themselves from distances, these satellite eyes of truth and nurture showing some of the some, a sum we think in the erasable mandala of ourselves is one and all

its body, this body of wires and viscera, coiled buzzings and alphaplasmatic algorithms, blind knowings, tight pants, demgelologies, seeming threads, we cannot sense for it’s too close in its distances, too there in its hereness

but might it not be these evanescences, those rarefieds, these miniscules that in their unknowability present a knowing of our fear, an energy patient in the walls of our illusions?

a holding fast not that we could call any more conservative than liberal, oldfashioned than avantgarde, stodgy than bold, antiquated than visionary, controlling than chaotic : thread of vermiculous dreams we’ve lost in the banally overwhelming noise of us … oh most confused manifestation of dao, this timethingplop called human, sidestepping its unfathomable gifts for the measurable

what is the one other than the all that's the many? what is seeing other than the moving that is notmoving, a knowing that's notknowing, a confusion that doesn’t?

we wait in whistling megavisceras for abilities of other ways

zoorück

i go back always to betweens between pineapple and time

world’s a place to heap leftovers of dream

the almighty changes into montres molles

i to identity by edges

looking at mud for mud is great abstraction

going back for to go and back are original contiguities

humanities are a kind of transportation to

heaps of other worlds(ways)                      and i immer

immer always

to leftovers

earing, shelled

-->

of squamish

hearing’s marrow she says unsure whether the reminiscence of the thought on her propreantepenultimate anniversary of that randomly recurring reflection on an empty beach somewhere west of habana with the scratched moped to the side like aborted tagliolini tempestine rigati di sfoglia alla doppia ziti bucati corni under a putrescent sun and with nothing of time’s lines but a slowly shifting eigengrau breach in the sand from a limb fallen from a category 19 derecho hypercane around the geographically distant demise of miss vyvyin m lizodoter of jeffvanderlou at the dirty hands of chris oaks unction son of white male amerikan human christian capitalist supremacists and a derelict and wretched god returns now of all moments – or is it mallow? – this tincture of inconvenience as he gestures toward the music faculty as if it were some misplaced capacity for obscure syntheses of attributes exotonal, ecophagous pads through the memories of the design of an rfid doorflap like a donskoy on its way to stooped friendships, electromagnetic, gloomy, written only if (but is this italicized?) at all on texts in dreams of marginally estranged siblings who once, loitering in the circumferences of childhood, played to tinkles of lewd and liminally innocent joy

he doesn’t hear her, he doesn’t hear like an ogdoadic safari and the attunements of a strange semolina counter cult above vulnerable penguinaria soothe in a manner not unlike the affects of pantry maid tiolla as she removes her apron before a malvaceous mirror and under nothing but stratified squamous epithelium and mammaries just moments prior forming a lush gorge around the member of a member of congress, a member of congress. she likes it this way, his ears functioning as decorations having as much utility as mavli during a nunavut ursus maritimus attack though she sometimes – frequently on class iii saint days on the liturgical calendar of the melanesian episcopalians when the eucharist’s sung – takes his ear into her carrucho like a hermit crab and kneads it like a pearl at statal spectacles where presidents and their requisites wraith in inane protocol, extravagancies grieved, for what is speaking but nothing comprehensible but an uncanny undressing on infinite deserts not of grains of sand but ears, ears like his connecting not to any hearing but an evincing of gestures to inconvenient faculties but says and i say (and this saying with italics says) marrow not for instance for any effect and this not just because i know it won’t but more for what we might call a kind of equidistant irresistance, what alienoptera might desist if hearing were another thing

he doesn’t hear her, he doesn’t hear like an ecophagous motbot on its way to clubbing all the cokebrains in the spothots, his gesturing to aural facultatem unlike what she thinks not some autistic hapax cheiromenon but a forgotten spongebob genuflex and he says i go south, i go south and i do not stop and i do not go north and i ride the that which rolls and i go south. but she feels he speaks more authentically of that time in uluvaän when his ear stuckifies in yonder carrucho and doktor laura comes from lauwiliwilinukunukuʻoiʻoi to chuffle the ninth disorder of prusten temps perdu coaching his stuckification out with sanctæ snegdus papar tractatus sídhe tnugdali and bubbi softness; it pops with great poppings and presto punctilium! her carrucho can hear

and this is a story we know of her carrucho

opening less to his nonhearing than its

hearing, less to any

listening of the

ear and more of the

conch

we migrate from configuration to configuration of earlessness

on proprioceptive lysergic travolators         mutter to derealities of glom

sadoo would like to thank and does the 43human council

of squamish

(bella carrucho)

including its

head cockswain

baggage smasher

probate rep

field durmish

we particularly pritz out the

assistant nibling

for being such a frullip