Philosophical rant by Bertrand Russell, uttered while stoned on purple-cabbage hearts, and then translated into the language of hyper-intelligent dolphins who make pottery, understand the concept of Pi and have opposable tail-fins.
you lose your isness but only
for a second since after that
mathematical point
of overlap—and transition from
are- is in a world of "thingness"
to aintness—the acetate runs_
Then...you can speak only
"in" the shrinking down to
a miniscule point of theoretical
dot of wasness of between
are and Isn't comes
"nolonger" which
is really just a mystification
of "thevoid" (which itself doesn't
separate from its qualifying article
as there is no "the" in thevoid
just_ ) as you isn't and therefore
need not speak in terms of was's or
hasn't since you aint is or are anyway;
so, now nothing "isn't"a word
or a place,
just a step
off the precipice
of_is,
not "into"
any"thing"
but off of_
which like space itself
is the medium which makes "is"
tangible as isness and the youness which emerges
from its belly—like a flower that begins to wilt from
the very moment of its conception until it hangs lifeless
at the point at which the transition to isn't occurs at some
abstract future date—ride the eternal¬_, which is neither_ or_, but only_,
the way a continent rides along the subduction zone of a geological plate,
until its invariable slide-under into notness...
Poetry by Jeffrey Z Rothstein
Read 496 times
Written on 2013-10-23 at 20:21
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conventions
When you no longer isyou lose your isness but only
for a second since after that
mathematical point
of overlap—and transition from
are- is in a world of "thingness"
to aintness—the acetate runs_
Then...you can speak only
"in" the shrinking down to
a miniscule point of theoretical
dot of wasness of between
are and Isn't comes
"nolonger" which
is really just a mystification
of "thevoid" (which itself doesn't
separate from its qualifying article
as there is no "the" in thevoid
just_ ) as you isn't and therefore
need not speak in terms of was's or
hasn't since you aint is or are anyway;
so, now nothing "isn't"a word
or a place,
just a step
off the precipice
of_is,
not "into"
any"thing"
but off of_
which like space itself
is the medium which makes "is"
tangible as isness and the youness which emerges
from its belly—like a flower that begins to wilt from
the very moment of its conception until it hangs lifeless
at the point at which the transition to isn't occurs at some
abstract future date—ride the eternal¬_, which is neither_ or_, but only_,
the way a continent rides along the subduction zone of a geological plate,
until its invariable slide-under into notness...
Poetry by Jeffrey Z Rothstein
Read 496 times
Written on 2013-10-23 at 20:21
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
