Update

shine, .:*ghost*:.

50% a notapoem, 50% a LIST:

- i don't know much, there's stuff going on that could tip the universe everywhichway away from here (where is here?
____and my sister's scared (which is a good thing, it means the universe is finally starting to quiver, and I see stars being shook loose and falling away behind the horizon (beneath my feet, where at last I can stomp my way to infinityism.

- i hear voices. i turn up my headphones louder, the voices have an incredible capacity to keep up____(i have not known such fatigue, i cannot sleep it off, i feel heavy, i have not had a breath of air in a week... i wonder what i am living off. (then i decide hope. and i shrug. seems obvious, even from here

- following tying up this loose tragedy (it's swayed in the wind far too long), I'm going to set sails for myself (the great(est) unknown). at some point in the near( or at very least a few paces farther than foreseeable) future I'm going to move past me. it will be swell to take over myself running in my white sneakers panting.
____(somewhere father in the unforeseeable but partially-possible non.future.yet.to.come: I see my non.yet.wife give me that you-just-said-a-stupid-thing-you-shouldn't-have-said look, and I, I giggling myself into a frenzy will take three quick steps and throw my non.yet.baby over my shoulder and put herhis hands over my eyes and say: da da da da dooo! (still giggling uncontrollably) because I know she (my non.yet.wife) cannot bear to throw a shoe at my non.yet.head with our little baby's limbs dangling like half-monkey, half-seaweed, half-miracle from off my head. So instead she will say: that's not fair put herhim down! To which I will reply: gigglegigglegigglegiggle HA! gigglegigglegigglegiggle foxtrotting the little dear into definite princessdom.

- and a story is yet to be written by me about the homeless men who gather in and around the public libraries by my home. There is nothing I love to see more, then the institutions of public and communal learning and wonder attracting those men and women whom most need a place to gather and commune. My story will be about several homeless scholars who sit daily and (quite insightfully) discuss Henry James, and giggle at de Sade, and despise Camus (for no real reason other than group-unity). Think what you will, the story is attracting me.

- and a story is yet to be written (about) (by) me, the homeless man who gathers in and around a specific place.time (in Einstein's language: {x, y, z, t}, that's me) and wonders about how dark he is inside himself, and how old he is, and if you cut him open if you'd see the rings you see across the trunk of a tree.

- other than that: __sunlight returns, __the jogs are getting longer and shorter, __the height of my soul changes daily, __Portishead (third) is what makes my days amazing, __i cannot understand the passage of time, __i abide by the laws of Brownian Motion: a free particle in a medium (air, water, gas, God, etc) appears to move randomly because of randomized collisions with the medium-particles; since all collisions are random, the particle is bound to move (since the only way it would stand still is if all forces were perfectly equal, and there is no equality since Bach and Cummings weigh more than the Lakers winning tonight, or the soup that unsettled my stomach at lunch), and so, I have no choice but to (move)(fail)(win)(die __someone hold my hand? __oh sweet wonderful dominions that are mine alone and no other man shall ever know!

- other than that: __a terrible stagnancy that has given life the smell of decay and the whizzing sound of life screaming past you as you sit on a train you cannot control and look at blonde children stationary on bikes, taste of snot already having reached their lips, as they wave little dirty hands at your blurrrrrrrrrface. __this scheme that has had me here is almost finished (sooooo close!), with one end a new beginning can sprout, and ashes make for great grass

- or as I told my mother today: if life didn't keep getting in the way, you, I and Sahar would have each conquered the world twice over by now. don't worry.

- or as Monz and I always say: this is what we do.

- or as I tell myself: of the infinite worlds of God, this is the shortest... brace yourself man, we're nearly there, in a sigh we'll be done and away and:




(there are no words for that part)