Night Notes – 2/2/2017

Night:
Assemblage . . . Cataplexy – – – Apoplexy
No divisions remain. Destruction of the
trumpsters. Whatever. Failure of the
whales. Elemental standing. Crucifixion.
Nothing assembling. Nothing adding.
Incoherence . . . .

Imagine that you are addressing
your readers for a moment . . :

Relate to stability;
“Rage, rage against the dying of
the light,” that, perchance, it
may not die.

Elections are not destiny. But neither
are they without consequence. Ably
storming . . unseparate uncaught. Terraforming,
to what we know not . . Noxious fuming
samples, unbroken unbruised. A tribute
to all, a loss of some.

Republic’s unguarded, no rations for
screws, reactive unwanteds leave unions
for crews. The street signs unchanging,
the weather unwell, the fragments
re’ranging, got quivers of spells.

A movement awakened, a crowd exposed.
Who holds the loudspeakers? Who
weathers the trolls? How long do
they carry? How long hold the seams?
What must think the neighbors, and
what words do they speak? What
methods to mend? What methods to
hint? Or at who do they aim, of what
do they dream? Of each realignment,
of each apparition, of each dart
of malice, of each gerrymander, of
each question thought, and each
left unanswered.

Today is your day, as always it may,
as always it be. But see what is
wrought and see what is bought. The
present is all, all ever is was, the
uncountable instant, the ever unsought.

A mind for an instant, each nexus
you cross, a crystal of presence, a
hard heart to crack, a verseless balance,
a threat to outrun, a message a
minute, a unit of thought.

See, the world is your canvas, the dire
chance now. But tribes misalign,
and hurt ever seeds, all echo bubble
chambers, all misattribution, all death-
grip dogma, all follow-the-leader.

So what does they choose? And who
is they be? All uncertain laughter,
all hard ragin’ tears, so think first
and after, breathe deep challenge fear.

A rhythm is playing, a torrent askew,
it’s all in the balance, ever was ever
will, a river is flowing, all over
this Earth, we’ll not get another, we’ll
not stand back soft, so light darkened
faces, together aloft!

So maybe you won’t, or maybe you will.
Choose methods and verses, try not take
a spill. But your life is this moment,
this day, this year. Make it stick,
make it strong, & do never lose
will.

==========================
Aside from stuff like my postcard project, sidewalk chalk messages, the openness of windshield wipers to planting of messages, I’ve also learned of another mechanism
that allows one to send to every address on a mail route (400-700 @ 17.7cents each)

Every Door Direct Mail . Plus printing costs.. You could, in theory combine this with
POD infiniprint options to produce 50 different messages per mailing instead of 1.
Also some people recommend writing of messages on paper money as a spiritual practice…
But can indiscriminate analog art or politicking make a difference? It seems a worthy
experiment….

Bottles up & open

Step left or right

Let no one see you stumble

Instagram perfect life

Triazolam & dextro amphetamine & zolpidem & fluoxetine & nicotine & diacetylmorphine & caffeine & ibuprofen & THC

Band gap sudden springboard

‘allo old boy what’chu need?

Mostly postage, peace, & quiet

Stretch symbols to break & hybridize

Stop to flourish, 4 days, then stop, wilt & rot once more

Rapid cycles of effervescence

Try not to speak too softly not too loud

Not to lie down not make yourself a bullseye…

What is to be done? A message for the left – writeforthemasses

What is to be done? A message for the left

“The first thing to do is to organize. The left has been in pieces for decades and this is the best chance to finally unify.”

“But the important thing now is to change the future, the future that we believe we deserve we can have if we just fight for it.”

“Many will already call for grassroots action to help facilitate change but there are serious limitations to this approach.”

Etc.

A haiku by me:
< Organization / Web of semantic arrows / Fires growth of spirit >
It is embedded with a tool, I am providing free of charge. Mail does not actually require return addresses, I hear, and for postcards it certainly doesn’t.. Use for whatever, I suppose. If the below are not 1800×1200 (suitable for offset printing), they are also available here: Psychic Fugue Studio:
pcf
pcb

James Radcliffe – Hatred Cannot Be Our Answer

Hatred Cannot Be Our Answer

“I know that it is too soon.  That for some of you the shock and disbelief will be too near; but despair is a luxury we cannot afford.”

“Apathy is the enemy.  If we give up we become part of the problem.  If we want things to improve we have to work.”

Etc.

A haiku by me:
< Organization / Web of semantic arrows / Fires growth of spirit >
It is embedded with a tool, I am providing free of charge. Mail does not actually require return addresses, I hear, and for postcards it certainly doesn’t.. Use for whatever, I suppose. If the below are not 1800×1200 (suitable for offset printing), they are also available here: Psychic Fugue Studio:
pcf

pcb.jpg

Oops! (Updates)

Due to errors and changes in workflow, my previous notices about postcard file availability (in 300 dpi suitable for printing) were incorrect. This has been fixed. They are now available at Psychic Fugue Studio. For quantities smaller than a full print run, please visit my shop on Zazzle.com. For text of some of the cards already sent out, see Poetic Postcards. Currently reformatting and making a few changes to the ebooks on Amazon to make them look right on Kindle, and in the next week they will likely be coming to actual paper! via CreateSpace, and possibly to some independent bookstores after that. I will also soon be offering The Driftwood of Our Lives Washed Up On Some Foreign Shore as a freebie if you sign up for the mailing list over at Psychic Fugue Studio. But I have to check the formatting on it and add the sign up form first… And when the budget allows, they will be coming to 60+ ebook markets in 170+ countries via BookBaby.

 

A Poem With No Curse

The game is in play
The vision is near
The fame and the fortune
Do need not come here
Just there a bit here a dot
A little greasy wheel
In need of a cot
When one time you know
Another you see
And all I and Escher
Go down on one knee
The zeros are heroes
The methods reversed
And all the time waiting
A poem with no curse