this land is in thought.

darkened

hard or soft

crumbled earth,

cast in blue,

and does it

look cold.

death in space

seems to

matter more.

almost like

death in napa

seeds fertility.

part of what

softens death

is

is the release!

...and receipt.

space receives

nothing.

daily_findings:#1

I lose

my voice

to time.

Existence and Remembrance

Sometimes...

I suspect I am not

what I remember.

You know.

you are who

you are now,

but

as you remember

you become something

else.

and well

every time

you remember something

it becomes something

else

to remember.

so

as I remember

myself

being,

as I remember,

I remember

myself

being.

hence

to remember,

is to remember

remembering

at the very least.

at each moment,

we change;

we are

flowing.

our remembrance

calls to the fact that

we can remember.

myself

in my memories

is unified

because

I was a self

when I remembered

last

remembering.

a poem discussing the fact that our sense of self arises as the result of many simultaneous neural processes. however, it's not just that. it's a particular perspective of those simultaneous processes. that perspective is what Plato referred to in his Allegory of the Cave. We are prisoners who never see the light, only shadows of it reflected.

WE=~we, US ~= us.

We=>we, Us=>us.

We=>WE, Us=>US.

the image shows a hierarchy of ones changing.

each neuron is not special, its meaning comes from

its place in the hierarchy from the senses.

but its not a hierarchy.

there are just things

that are obscured

by the shadows.

one changes

perspective.

if our thoughts

are guided

and our thoughts

guide over

planes

a space of thoughts,

represented working.

as our

thoughts guide,

we experience.

as WE experience,

we guide.

and as guide,

WE experience anew.

hence,

WE exist on many planes

and

WE are

those planes

considered

as a whole.

We are sensitive

to what changes.

If we see a light,

We find a light

and experience.

for that moment,

it becomes Us.

And when WE

reflect

what changes

is within

and

what changes

becomes US.

think about

it.

we exist

in a domain

of many

many

parallels.

one changes.

if WE are the whole

then by

one changing

WE change.

but

what changes US?

we change US

as

one changes

as

WE see

the world anew.

experience by one

becomes

the experience

of many.

it is

by this

that WE

come from one.

WE

exist

as

parallel

ones.

poetry?! what for.

poetry.

seriously.

I know it
seems absurd.

It's not the
point to
be obscure.

When we read a poem,
line by line,
we experience.

As we read,
we experience.

What we read
has been crafted,

and as we read,
we experience
the crafted.

Poetry--

art--

music!
is a craft
of experience.

They are;

they exist
only
to be felt,

to be read.

cursed pirate.

pirate cursed.

What we experience

depends on
the sequence
of those experiences.

Watching a movie
backwards

is not the same as

watching it forward.

Hearing a song
backwards

is not the same as

hearing it forward.

Seeing a Picasso,

then seeing a Warhol

is not the same as

seeing a Warhol

then seeing a Picasso.

As an aside,

modern art seems

pretentious

because sometimes

it is constructed

to be viewed

after having viewed

and thought about

a certain set of art.

If we have not

viewed

and

thought about

that art

then modern art

will not be experienced

in the same way.

After reading

Harry Potter

the Bible

will never read

the same way again.

Thus,

flow.

As you read,

attend experience.

Realize it.

Wherever you go,

appreciate it.

Let one idea

carry over

to the next.

jump

jump.
help me jump.
Lift my legs,
I will reach for the sky.
It doesn't make much sense, though.
y'know,
how I've asked you
to help me
jump,
since it's not really
what you can
help me with.
Next time,
I'll think of something
you can.

lap top vort ex

don't forget the foreign n n n

things to create

this importent might

what others find insane

to a will musically

untold.

spiraling ideas

in the center

of the rarely spoken

vortex. my word

vortex. spun

words vortex.

and from

here toward

another way.

(i think

we just

got it)

collapse

[_____]

..[___]..

....[_]....

.....[.].....

__to__

__.a.__

..point...

pointing almost

directly

there.

see me

see us

see it

minding.

outward reaching

outward spiral

touched

the wall

dry to

touch

the wall

outward spiral

reaching outward

gasp

gasped

gasping

i am

a

gasper

. . .

release.

a thought recalled

collapsing structures

falling away.

leaving nothing

beneath my feet.

Suspended by arms

taught and strong

for the better of humanity.

at least, that's what I think happened.

oft clarity strikes

but

it's not up to me

how I remember.

and

when I remember.

let the branches fall

where they may.

poh-ahem high-coup. hapax.

it is frustrating

over these hills and these streets

to keep reception

traveled introductions

stretched fabric

over fabric

create aesthetics

to my sound

thinned again

and again

skin over bone

how're glass

beads

streamed in

lines

to count

living corpses

corpsing about

with their

witty hair

and

crossed fingers

dancing.

still dancing

atleast inside.

insofaras within

i mean

what gathers

tends to dance

like and by motion

swirling swirling motion

pushes me to act.