words of a people aligned in their perfect order
I almost never write naked – there are times while in bed and after feeling enraptured beyond illumination or prose by the pressing together of two forms and bonding with sweat and efflorescent nothings whispered passionate in each others ear – those times I will roll and pluck out a small black notebook and pen a few lines before returning – but most of all is written while dressed and thinking back with forward anticipation.
I struggle to not hear the voices and focus on the line, the word, the work, the breath, the moment, the standard passing of time and deliverance from this lifers bondage.
I hold the key, juggling it out from one hand to the other and the intermediate pocket but still cannot find the door from where I came in.
oblivion, yes oblivion and we hang. ticking ticking absent from our mortal clock in which the hours pass by and days and days are numbered lest remembered filtered through our hopes, dreams of what was and what should have been.
but this is me and without the medication to narrow my path focused on the reality that is elsewhere or nowhere or invented by Eli Lilly and company in some board room and experimental lab where test tubes are filled with patients like me.
our subject may be queer in the head, our subject may be recognized to be not there, filling time time time always time in notes and sufferings small and individual expressed out in letters scatters around America or larger, the world.
I think this is all that needs to be said about Sal. Happy birthday if it’s your thing.wake
coffee x 2
read papers
coffee
e-mail/internet dialogue
write for awhile
lunch or
peanut butter and
raspberry jam
water
coffee
woodshop (garage)
write for awhile
mail/e-mail
play with son aged five
dinner
time with woman
read/write
sleep if possible if not
write till the river Lethe
washes over dry and blinking eyes.
– Hoc Scripsi
every time I type out Hoc Scripsi I misspell it by one space on the keyboard. Don’t know why – maybe an ‘O’ at the end makes more sense to me than the ‘i’ does.
Today I am going to go the range and practice for awhile, remember to breathe through the trigger pull and I ought to do well.
my bones feel oddly heavy and even lifting my fingers to type is an effort. This is not the first time I have felt my solidity or experienced a jaw so heavy as to not be able to speak. I am not connected as to why this happens but it always makes me feel heavy and serious.
Today we are celebrating the invention of the zipper as it keeps things hidden in our pants, prevents us from having to toil under the strain of too many buttons while having to race to a bathroom, keeps my boots on, and enables us to say to children, zip up your coat, it’s freezing out there!
the “hookless” zipper received an American patent on 04/29/1918 and jeans would never be the same, nor the ease of reveal.
Maybe it’s the Zipper that really caused those love-ins of the sixties.
Happy Birthday Duke Ellington, you are still missed.
this is the first part of a two part poem. I don’t think I will put out the second part. This first part is perfectly fine on it’s own.
2
Venus blue eyes
sun radiant warmth
I collapse into your
thighs.
– Hoc Scripsi
the platitudes of willful resemblance 