a woman in sexology

for her
the research is puzzling
a cipher
the mind and body uncoupled
independent
she can think herself into
she desires the intimacy of
strangers excite
or unmoved she remands herself to

is she insulate or imperative?
certainly no stunned vessel
or starched handmaiden

she does not wait.

for her
the erosion of stones
the healing of wounds
the rise and ebb of arousal
is
is
as water running seaward
a primately cursive
indelible
animism

dream twins: sweater set and dolomite

sweater set and dolomite 


1.   sweater set


upper body, female

white, or pink

twinned  cleavage...
easily broken, discarded, lost
buttons vitreous to pearly white
white
white to pink


"vast amounts... in the geologic record...now rare"


2.   dolomite


bones
under ancient bristlecone
twinned rhombohedral cleavage

easily broken, discarded, lost

bowels

purged through mining

hands
augmenting horticulture

eyes
float glass
(imagine liquid lens)

bilious petroleum reservoirs


a mineral
found in coral atolls, saline lakes, lagoons and

kidneys
of a Dalmation


3.   sweater set and dolomite



Conscious materials can be
pulled apart, ripped, scratched, crushed, or rubbed.

The phenomenon of dreaming twinned images,
the separation and reunification of isolate rational things
is not fully understood

But a certain fractious luminescence haunts the darkness

cajolement

We don't know if we can take it.
Of course we haven't had any.
What?
What did we do
that causes you to do that?
Is something up your sleeve?

working

stream bright
dark land
flood plain
5.000 year history purified by stones
clear memory?
clear water?
look at it
there in brain darkness
look at it
what rises lit

insomnia

I dream in hot flashes
struggling with
restlessness, wet sheets,
heavy, damp doubts.
What
rises to the surface
of the unconscious
and stares
accusing?

snow

white
sky planked
river sluggish
slough slough
crossed roads
slush
slow slow

box elder
pin cherry
old pear
wound unpruned
branch bough bole white

owl hollow
dead skin squirrel
brush pile vixen
warm
holes
holes
waiting

white
closed
close close

painting

  I am painting every day, with my hand, in my mind. 

The numbers have led to words, sentences, text, not read, 

but heard. Paintings form from the ear, aurally. It's odd 

to watch this as I shift, scrub and smooth the 

surface of things, these pictures.

Listening space and listening object exist simultaneously.
Perhaps snowbound sight lifted sound out.
Perhaps it is this twinned geography of place between continents,
disembodied persons.
Here is where your voice and my voice reify, pleach.
Here is hear, the ear as an eye.

painting

sky
earth

an example:
the modesty of leaves
physical(ity)

contemplation
that is
still (alive)
enervation (frisson)
still (space)
still (yet)
intracosmic
microference

an example:
dawn  lake  lit
in Copenhagen (interpreted)

lumina
liminal
condensed
but not miniature
contained
but not insular

examples:
dew
crocus nudge
poetry

why consider the private screen
under numbers
under text?


to occupy intimacy
on a scale relevant to survival

painting

geography


fugue


geography


threnody

geography

memory

painting

context
from image
unclear provenance
allows present
to be present

practical application

digits appear
symbolic selections of numbers
numbers you desire

numeral borealis
red green oxygenous pulsar
blue purple nitrous frisson
veil ululations

words

practical application

shift                                     distance


m   o     v   e              h
                                             o
                                             r
                                             i                on  earth
                                             z
                                             o
                                             n

north by water

think of Icarus here
Great Lakes swallow boats whole
why not a boy?

La poésia hoy es piel y agua

numeracy

relative emotional intelligence
the ability to select
understand
work with

13
prithivi mudra
two handed earth
thumb and ring finger touching
others extended
stable
a prime number

3
4th fibonacci
pushan mudra
light, nourishing clarity

right hand
thumb, index and middle fingertips  press
as if holding a stem
others extended

left hand
thumb, middle and ring fingertips press
others extended

there are variations

52
the third untouchable
(2 5 52)
a year
pushpaputa mudra

"place your hands like empty bowls"

accept air
open
open

local color

squirrel
bark- colored
an exact motion of brown
shift
sun
spotted
trunk crotch
animal crouch

look at it

what

is

this

pain

unable to bear
left with
hiding
causing

feeling

resisting
resisting

accepting

understanding

thaw

this
that is
this is
enough
is
implicitly
hopeful

sutra

prajna
para
mi

respire

yo
ti

luz

ga te
ga te

para
ga te

so  ha

hacia fuera

open

the twentieth is an ordinal number
a position in space
a space occupied hard and soft
earth under snow, light direction
desire
desire for
Twentieth is more than a week and less than a month
between was and will
movement
movement towards
Twentieth is an edge, distance, an anniversary
to fall
to fall into, or out of
listening to Neruda read
I thought of Egypt, eighteen, nineteen days now
Twentieth
the twentieth papyral hieratic
un mes indigena
Today I write facing north
away from the heat of love, of revolution
Escribo
de la desesperación
de las estrellas
del viento
de la esperannza
within a position
a digit persona
of language, sand, and mountains

here is
the twentieth struggle
love, and love
multiplied
sung
sung into

one good painting I think

mahasirs mudra

interference

one day

cold

suddenly
raven's claw wind
seizes skin
breathless
frightening
surprising
unthinkably

cold

balance

we
frugal
poor
broke
busted
know how to live with less
money
more
time
how to sit
think
bake bread
cook dry beans
winter squash

we
delight in watching Mary Renault on youtube
reading Bachelard
mysteries about Chicago
shovel our own snow
take the bus
use clinics and foodshare
pay taxes and a mortgage
practice French
take naps
write letters
poems
stories
paint
wax extrovert
wane insular, solitary
prepare to move
back
and forth

we
teach english in another country
where we make pizzas for homesick expats
love mountains and small neighborhood temples
have health insurance and a pension plan

it's a difficult life to explain
to a low-income clinic receptionist

curious

I wonder what it's like
to be born on a date
that only exists
every 4 years


what crucible
what tempest
created

the original collision of articles and nouns

the ancient rousing of prepositions

companion
and collocation
in my language

a hundred million eyes
are still watching gladiators
is football
a civil lineage of
sacred rage


impulses to number name move
identify us
precede us

await us

sunday

light flurries
large breakfast of porridge and French jam
table littered with pills and books
it's difficult to rise and begin
after all
it's so, well,
comfortably expectant here.

hidden art

In Egypt
dunes cover Akhenaten's metropolis,
smashed to smithereens by
violent ancient conservatives,
certain they could erase all trace
of one sun god, of change.
It cost a lot of money to do that, destroy an idea.

Juju, an 8-year-old Saudi girl, would agree.

Over centuries the sands give up tantalizing bits of glory;
a woman's mouth beautifully carved, a battered stone glyph of Aten.
Who survived? Perhaps fleeing along trade routes to distant places, exiles
wrought history into vivid chant and ballad, the people's mnemonics, singing witnesses into existence.

You hear, you see, said the bandaged man in Tahrir, now you too
will remember.

The wrong stuff

I had a dream
about peanut butter.
It was the only food in the house;
in cupboards, fridge,
even in the freezer frozen in ugly fecal lumps.
The horrid stuff was everywhere.
My clothes reeked of it,
a sugary barkish aroma.
How could Carter, scientist
and Carter, farmer, abide it?
Just as I thought I'd go mad
someone arrived, a shadowy figure
in peanut butter brown trousers, with a peanut brown bag of
staples - flour, butter, sugar, eggs, salt and milk.
Oh welcome bland things not
this awful ochre shade!
Thank you strange visitor, peanut guardian or avenger!
I woke up rejoicing, for I'd been gifted a solution,
a way to dig myself out of this peanut butter hell!
Exterminate the bastard glop quickly, efficiently, and perhaps, yes, with joy!
Dove, I said,
Let's bake cookies.

grab

A German farm bequest supports
agrarian
artist
physicist

who?
the unknown doesn't impress name droppers
who want to play politics
with some one else's dough

we knead messages quickly
bake signs
deliver impressively sealed protests

oh
smells good

agrarian
artist
physicist


perhaps they have known us all along

winter landscape

such

violet shadows
white
white
wind
cerulean hue
box elder brown

scratched fissured warmth

unexpected clarity!

orange (night sky)

no stars
refraction of the mind
because
this scrimmed infection
of color
seems
indigenous