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Monday, 13 July 2009

Every Day


File:Nelumno nucifera open flower - botanic garden adelaide2.jpg

Grammar tells us

what kind of an object

anything is. So does light.


is surrounded

by a


You can feel yourself thinking

but can you think yourself feeling?

A state of what?

“You’re a smarty pants

do you want to dance?”

Touch is important

in a dark universe,

but print is useless

much less unreal

Mechanical Tao

The robot pushes small obstacles out of the

way, goes round heavy ones, and avoids slopes.

The BIG crayon

for little fingers

Where is it written

that we must write

right side up?

Advantage –

ah, it stays with us

past the asking

Are we

some kind

of filter, some


it’s all being

run through?

I am here with this (my mind, etc.)

“I am not here with my mind”

Learning to forget

occurring in the instant,

uneasily wise

& so, poorly aware

Space isn’t

in Language –

or as the child cries

“Outside! Outside!”

I walk in

on occasion

One room fronts on

open, unqualified spaces.

The other is bound

by a wall. All its

area is thought up.





people are



People on television

give you their

public self

like people

on elevators

“What has the greatest importance

is not the twelve tones, but,

much more, the serial conception…”

More hair



File:Cyanistes caeruleus 3 Luc Viatour.jpg

Flower of Nelumbo nucifera, Botanic Garden, Adelaide, South Australia: photo by Peripitus, 2008
Blue tit (Cyanistes caeruleus): photo by Luc Viatour, 2008


poetowen said...

more scalp
every day

Zephirine said...

I like this very much.



people are



yes indeed...

Anonymous said...

The unimaginable power of the senses.

Stu said...

Last night I was chatting with my wife about poetry as a 'form of enquiry' (perhaps you would spell it 'inquiry'?)

This is exactly what I meant.

TC said...


On a clear day
You can see
Our heads shining


Yes, the imagination will never be as keen as they are (said the dull old man, feeling his way in the dark).


The one good thing I can say about those notorious "senior" moments when the names escape one--the less nouns left in the baggage compartment, the less trouble for the porters later.


I told you a while back you were my hero, and I wasn't trying to be witty--but I'm afraid the honour has now been transferred to Tronica. Though then again, any woman who will discuss forms of enquiry with her spouse must have a bloody brilliant one, if he's capable of keeping her interested. So it's honours all round... many thanks!