(Mis)Re-Memberings |
Zing to me O twists and turns! |
Reason can only give birth to the rational. Life has other mothers. |
Problem is we keep forgetting what we know. |
The shortest distance between two minds is a point. (The body, alas, prefers to go the sinuous-sensuous way.) |
Can you love your hate as much as you love your love? |
Undone by love, I sing a valediction to myself—a triple fool, ecstatic flea, a little world made cunningly of air and angels. |
Let us love each other with the innocence of vegetables. |
What is infinity made of? Of infinitesimals (naturally). |
The specter of money is upon us. |
Das dick, das prick, das trick. |
The body remembers what the mind forgets. |
What matters is energy. |
The table that isn’t there is also a miracle. |
One morning I woke up and I wasn’t myself—and for the first time I saw myself. |
Love is not everything, even when it is. |
My mother is a . |
If I know, I don’t know: if I don’t know, I know. |
Reality is a sound. Shut up and listen. |
Only difference is worth repeating. |
I think I can’t , , , I stopped thinking , , , I can , , , |
Beyond words swells the wordless world. |
I’m too many for my name. |
So much depends on the autobiography of this red wheelbarrow. |
Yes I say to yes. |
Between the nothing that’s there and the nothing that isn’t, thirteen blackbirds play blue guitars. |
. . . a stone is not a stone is a stone is astonishing . . . |
God is deadly. |
Writing is writhing, ambition distraction, derision uglification. |
There is one mother. |
To fall in love with the world is to know—joy is knowledge, knowledge joy. |
Can’t turn my eyes away. |
The sun is the heart. |
Life is metamorphosis, the mirroring mind metaphorphosis. |
Rivers run through me. |
Things fall apart. (Thoughts too are just things.) |
Is is not is. |