Wednesday, March 30, 2005

white eyes and food for thought

hey, so before i go to bed like a good girl...if i don't get too into Moby Dick and end up sitting awake reading for hours and hours (god that book is good!!)....i went to the Anarchist Coffehouse at the Zeitgeist tonight and it was interesting. Some really great stuff some really weirdly bad. But the net effect was good and the people who run it are really nice, so i reccomend. Every tuesday at 9pm...(now going to be also a poetry thing between 7 and 9 same day,, but not an open mike, more of a show and a wee bit expensive at 7 bucks, the coffeehouse is a pay if you wanna kind of gig) and there is lots of food provided by Food Not Bombs, for free but you are supposed to make a small contribution, which personally it think is more than fair when they put on a kind of spicy african veggie spread. nice!

there was a cool guy there wearing white contact lenses. nothing more to be said, it's just kind of an interesting image, no?

anyway, trying to get it together here.

lots of love,

SR65X

ugh

Humour me people. I know this is not very good, and at the very least is far too long and in need of loads of work, but i need to express...grr. I have been feeling so horrible lately, hence not posting much, trying to get it together, honestly. So let me spew. And then i will feel a bit better and maybe get back on track somewhat.

love,

SR65X

-----------------------------------------------------------------------


On the gulf between sanity and in.

On the high lands I say: Where was that switch inside you?

I thought I had turned that light ON, but maybe it was just the sun through the window streaming like a torch or some blaze of falling stars. I thought I had it between finger and thumb…something I had found behind your teeth those nights I reached into you: a little square, a bump, not hard or soft, a little point that was the centre of you, your only filling you might say, in those rows of perfect tiger teeth…but she makes fireworks.

But She
Makes Fireworks.

MORE PROPERLY:

Where was that switch inside you?

Now I shouldn’t go on throwing my mind/Straight over my body and laughing the nights out from under my eyes, lying on the couch, yes, contemplating space. I should be kind, waking, and /Focus/ Focus/ Focus/ on all there is:

the he the them the one the many:

Polysemy, poly-semi, polly-semi semi semi

semi die semi be semi you semi me semi land semi see semi hear and semi say

Semi wave the fears away.

These days I think we met somehow. Maybe I saw you eating a sandwich in a station when I was out my head one day, under pale light at King’s Cross that looks like the face of a kid grey with raving all night. That dry feeling from the glass between the iron girders, ribs of some great whale: a corpse in central London. I think maybe on some school trip. Yeah…You were there leaning with your smile and your long hair, you had long hair then, my Samson.

(Remember when we were kids
:Shiny foil
:Cold morning
:Cool for Cats
:Blazer blazer bus is here.

You started up that sexy car and dreamed your dreams of beachy head:
Punk that sea side town make the rock stand on end, YOU straight thru, where the beer and the sea taste like England. In Blue, you made it to school where sweat stank and laughter resides on benches where your feet tucked up to friends. Sneering my man, sneering with your blue eyes. I was thinking different thoughts by bus light, dreams wet with turpentine, a thousand pages of flesh bound in blood I rang the bell, smoked a fag in that white tunnel like a giant cigarette inside out; drank music and was, like you, always late.

But we were right on time.

When we found each other years later your fingers were a melody by themselves! White and moving keys on a vast player piano.
When we found each other the nape of your neck was velvet: Snatch you up by it like a kitten! Swallow your sweat and bite new beauty marks!
Between my teeth you felt no pain. Oh my ideas!
Lay flat and let me fold you fold into origami shapes.
Make me a crane to fly away, a cup to hold your water.
In the light of a candle my thighs could be a fortune-teller. 1-2-3.

We built things, CONSTRUCTION! pieces of a chandelier, and mirror, we were magpies. Things that could shine and cut. I kept dreaming in heat, I dreamt of fights…cut brow at 5,6. Once you woke up screaming. In the dark I remembered where it was in the park that I hid that jewel when I was 7…in that cherry tree we found it waiting. Two somnambulists in Knightsbridge. The police didn’t catch us.

In the ditch by the bed we built and sheltered, built and sheltered,,,told stories…whispered. two children camping. Test the air with a finger, chew plants that could kill and could make the world spin like the wheel of fortune, jackpot on your belly. Musk foxes stalked dust bunnies in that glorious green, and we lay Ink soft, and sweat at night when we couldn’t sleep for the heat between us.

We were a world.

You made me a hemisphere.

But she makes fireworks.

I can’t fuck for fun because of you running
Round my head like the ghost of a kid on fire
Lit up with no pain just setting things off
Let me tell you,
You little arse-onist.
Let Me tell you.
I tried. I cried, It
Finished.

The pain went undiminished and there was always the threat of something worse.

Was it hidden under your hair?

I am trying to think of where I could have looked for it.
I am praying to St. Antony like they told us in school.
Here, under the desk, when I lost my pencil.
When I lost my head.

You on your side and me on mine, our love came crashing down like a comet with such a lovely tail, but its crater is a (s)mile wide.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Language Of Everything

The language of everything is female. Her name is LOE.


Upon seeing LOE for the first time, I did not instantly fall in love with her, as sometimes happens to others. Rather the attraction was more analogous to gravity, which propagates at the speed of light. If the sun winked out of existence, an inky wave would arrive at our planet in about eight minutes, wash the blue from our sky, cancel our orbit, and make us permanently tangential. So, I can say that I fell in love with LOE at the speed of light. Like the sun, she was the light, and like its gravity, she was an attractive force.


For all the great things I could say about our bond of love, I am obligated to say that next to the other things she taught me, love was the weakest, by far. This too was like gravity, the weakest force in the universe.


Could you imagine going to war with gravity and a bowling ball? What? Would you bruise a soldier’s shin? Maybe, if you were clever with the bowling ball you could ring one soldier’s helmet like a bell, but then what? However, if you went to war with the strong nuclear force and that same bowling ball, you could destroy a city under a mushroom cloud.


If you froze the movement of everything about a body, right down to the subatomic particles, that body would be invisible because it is mostly space. Why is it then, that a canyon floor, which is mostly space, has any chance to oppose gravity and stop a falling body from shooting right down to the earth’s gravitational center? If you roll a great rock off a canyon ledge, it hurdles toward the earth’s center at 120 miles per hour but is rebuffed at the floor. How can this be? The answer is the force, electromagnetism.


Electromagnetism renders gravity a pale thing.


The weak nuclear force is the glue that holds an atom together. It is a radiant force. What can you do against that? Throw some salt on it for 10,000 years, for a half life or two?
So it was that I was bound to LOE. She taught me many things. She taught me to see the invisibleness of a body. She taught me to be invisible, and to navigate a body, and to take a body apart with the language of electromagnetism. She taught me how to live a good half life. For LOE was a civilized woman.


You’re driving around with T-Rex in your gas tank. You’re burning fossil fuels. You don’t even qualify as any type of civilization when a type I would have mastery of all the forces of a planet, a type II, mastery of all the forces in a solar system, and type III, mastery of all the forces in a galaxy. LOE was type III and more.


LOE prepared me for battle. Our enemies drew upon immense strength. She taught me how to bring them low. Love wasn’t going to do it.


It isn’t so much that I was the ONE, but rather, what was risen in me was her; she made us the fifth force. She once told me that she may out live me, but that I must protect my life against that for she had the power to kill without the power to die. If we were to separate, what was risen was gone.


This was the beginning. And I willingly assumed the godhead, though I later denied it.

This was also the end. This was Ragnarok, and this was the time I met Jane King.

Bult For Bodys

“Mountn got a thing bult for bodys. Its called an avlanch. A man fallen uner that bitch dozent know which way is up. Its no good a’strugglin. All you can do is breath. And that’s whats responsbl for the death mask. The last thing a body does to try an let out is melt the snow with it’s heat. No good though. That just leaves a pocket there with the impression of a man like a horror.

“Terrible sorry about your’n husban Mary. We gave it a god awful try with attack and rescue dogs.”

--A mash note from Silas Jones



Bult For Bodys

Go hide
November fruits dried.

A river worth freezing
Fresh salmon abide

Alive

--the carriage tracks
Groan with ticks in dog’s
Hides.

Some are the times
Frozen smiles

Let cheerlessly, worn
Into the
Death mask of
Avalanche, press

Stale pocket of air
Compressed in an icy
Starkness where last
Breath hung in warm opposition
To unique, flakey crystals Made hard as lies.

Monday, March 21, 2005

SUMMERS: CAST YOUR VOTE

Quoting Zoe Trodd, at the GSC. THose of you who are Graduate Students please cast your vote!!
----------------
Last Tuesday the FAS faculty voted "lack of confidence" in President Summers. On Monday and Tuesday GSAS students will have the chance to vote on the same question. Harvard and the world want to know what thousands of graduate students think about their university president.

Log on to the weblink below to cast your anonymous vote. It's a quick and easy process.

http://www.courses.fas.harvard.edu/~gsc/qa/

Polls will be open from 7am Monday (March 21) to 5pm Tuesday (March 22).

The two questions are those offered to faculty at their vote last week.

The results are vital to the ongoing debate, and graduate student opinion is of great interest to faculty and the press.  

yours

The Graduate Student Council
gsc@hcs.harvard.edu

Friday, March 11, 2005

rib

RIB

White
Explosive
Flesh Fresh, delicious
Was your hot
PowderSkin

Powder keg.

Rubbed right thin into air.
Dissolved
in a Flash
of Passion.

Worn clean.
Burned Back to Bone.

To be now quiet.
Blank like snow blankets.
Minute
& shivering
muted inside from where there is no sound.

Nor can be. Where sound runs only to well
deep at the dam of lips
And flows NO FURTHER. You look in the mirror.
The face of the thing,
a supple question

Stares you in

And the answers
Stand in lines beneath eyes,
Those ripples of the
Happened to;



Dropped

Responses
Of the bath where you feel your own form,
Solid, like that stone (plunk) but
Push hips out
Boned Phrases rise
Like steam and fat.

I was on the verge of…
Because I meant to…

Half-desires, apologies so Hollow
Half-hide that ache to know:
You are a body of words/
/Breath across
An empty bottle lip.

Tip Soft, sealed and sterile
Room, room yes
Soft with Simple noises.
Here No Nouns or verbs
That speak without, without
In corridors unspecified.

They run along
Like children… behind you!
Always saying something else.
Always leaving things unsaid.
Did they mangle the phone
Lines in Cat’s Cradle games?

Or were we a Quick toy in the
Palm of God, grotesque and shaking?
Played upon and played out, in lines carved there?
Or did we hide instead, shutting it all out
Like fingers folded over?
Close with night
and secrets: the crease between each finger a
Witness blind greased
And dusty, thick
With blinking light.

It was more than a physical
Conversation
That we had in that place, prison or womb: the
Questions of your
hands on me
seemed to stop up
all fear.

Now white worn away to the rib of Adam.
But a fist is (inside) quiet, warm
And Red.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

watch your mouth

watch your mouth
watch your mouth,
originally uploaded by SiRen65.
DonQ has been at it again. Cheesy bumpersticker type image with a kicker of a message...all hail the Thin-King!

Come one Come all: OPEN MIC FOR INTERNATIONAL WOMEN'S DAY

Attn: MUSiCIAnS! POETS! WRITERS! ARTISTS!
Refreshments provided!

F***NISM
Is
Not
A Dirty
Word

Join us and share your words or words that inspire you at: “Woman’s Word”: a poetic open mic’ lounge on women, gender & feminism
MARCH 8th, International Women’s Day, @7.30pm, Dudley House, CafĂ© Gato rojo. Email: dfeo@fas.harvard.edu for details & early sign up
A project of Dudley Literary and the Harvard Anti-Sexist coalition
Sign the petition at: http://www.petitiononline.com/ashncls/petition.html
Can’t make it so late? Go to the Harvard anti-sexist coalition open mic on inequality & Gender at the Ticknor Lounge, Boyleston Hall, 5-6.30pm for a more political flavor, or just COME TO BOTH!!

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

"what can I possibly say.

I guess that I miss you..."

I can't begin to put how I am feeling about ending my relationship with Will into words. I don't understand the whole thing. People keep telling me that at least we have a bank of great memories. I want to scream when I hear that. It's partially because we have a bank of great memories that I wanted to keep working on the relationship, and it's because we had (is there a "we" anymore?) such amazing times together that I am going ot find it so hard to find anybody even tolerably close to being as wonderful as he is/was to have a serious relationship with. I realize that what lays before me is a lot of comfortable, ok things, but nothing that just sings the way we used to together. How can he not see that??

ugh.

Now I feel like it was all my fault, and I look back at how I was in the relationship and I just think the whole thing was probably intolerable for him right from the start. I don't know. I made a lot of mistakes, I think I learned a lot. I thought we were headed in the right direction. It took effort but every hurdle we went over brought us closer together. I could have worked harder to keep everything fun, but we were both working so hard when we were together that we often just wanted to be safe. Maybe I should say I did. Maybe that is the whole problem.

he has changed a lot too since he's been in China working. Now I don't know how I feel about going back at all. I feel like my whole life got turned on its end.

I have the flu. It is bginning to go away, but it can't go soon enough as far as I'm concerned.

I have so much going on right now that I don't even have time to be depressed about all this...I am too busy coughing my brains out or doing something for some project or other.

so humor me. Get excited for me about my projects and stuff, because I really can't do anything right now except throw myself into things to take my mind off where I am at.

SR65X