emptiness visible: preverbs

George Quasha

for Robert Kelly

1. emptiness visible

Dreaming is the further doing of the done.

Pre-Pre-Socratic Sayings of Ontononymous the Particular

I see myself stripping down in language getting past feeling naked without rules.

The only good mirror breaks in the view.

The most ordinary thing sheds its name to make me feel more than I dare.

This is nature in its sleight of grace.

A sentence dreaming breaks through time.

I can’t tell you how true hearing is.

Getting the timing sheds expectation on the reading go.

This is impossible to know but you reveal the thing before you feeling alien.

We are strangers even to our estrangement.

No escaping the danger of identifying as human.

Looking back looking down looks back to now.

The underlying question remains can we take the heat of waking seeing.

Language dreaming teaches the thickness of awareness.

Looking like a brain doesn’t mean mind but it is anyway.

Strange fruit means getting over taste.

Cracking the message showed what I don’t know I want to know.

The new view feels wrong before right.

2. surfacing diacritics

Timing does not reify time.

Ontononymous the Particular

Let’s start smooth because we know it never stays that way.

Life happens under the life seeming lived, the rippling starts now and now.

Fishiness is a permanent possibility of vision.

Rome burns in the saying, said the view flaming from under.

Makes no sense initiates sensational sense.

Choose your weapon is option in its transitional freedom in danger.

Things come up for the air they didn’t know they needed.

The inner glide of language images flow quicker than the ear—until learning.

The crossed sentence dreamt dying for my sins.

I come here for the release.

What if this is your dream unfolding in my syntax ceasing to be mine?

It breaks up primacy of any event sense letting it fall off its own edge.

The cracks in our shared world break through bubble worlds intoning Look now!

Don’t get sucked in until ready to reclaim breathing in water.

Sub-syntax is the feeling thinking journeying only if you get the timing.

On the way under laugh until it shuts you down.

Love contains being striving despite categorical affirmation.

I keep finding a new poetics in raking the mind.

Poiesis either does or does not show its rage.

Laughing until it shuts you down going through surfaces eyes unclosing.

3. the torque of orc

Who cries through our viewscape discourse if not earth in agony?

Appreciation is one thing, feeding another.

It’s not about pretending to like it this way, ecstasy notwithstanding.

Thinking to understand has instant force and quick expense.

We read the book before we read it.

Along comes being read.

I pretend to see the gods calling for our help.

Tone of voice blurts before the sentence goes far.

The vivid bookish world is in contact before we think reading.

Pretensive co-prehension makes itself up for the occasion, all around squeezing.

It’s not about feeling comfortable when texture has sexual text turning right there.

Getting real means the real is getting you whatever its message massaging the feel.

Cf. a poietic slave-raiding act initiates an alternative universe wave in hard view.

Like you see before you its hammering toward your mind burdens invasive thought.

Getting back to home base through thick complexity takes allopoietic rebalancing.

Grammar derives from nature in its system functional mirroring, with bends, cracks.

Right timing times outside time, absolutely.

In case you feel a need for a verb it remains there waiting under ignorance.

Rocks torque clinging to life gripping the rock in front of them, insanely imaging.

Like tongue takes on a thing seen orc-like.

Endless discourse has no recourse.

4. no coming from

contraries self construct in stop motion

Ontononymous the Particular

I see the picture on the spot.

My mind is crying monstrous simplicity.

The mood is mind stuck with the detection it’s avoiding.

The world has drive under all and identity gears and cracks plot fears.

Language feels mind raking its debris hunting down the unidentifiable stone.

The feel of no one without none.

If it says it’s writing it is given reader.

Either way you play by the rules of the frame you allow.

Slowdown in viewing allows shell facing.

The writing subtracts feeling imprinting time in its eternity.

The idea appears to bring dreaming into syntactic view.

Persisting live things grate to finger dealing no view supports.

Dreaming seeing saying sits down on authority until it cries carbuncle.

The dance dimension is the marking meanings residing surfacing aftertime.

It’s always day when the day is gone. Stop.

It’s an object in the sense of omnidirectional pointing.

It’s one too many.

5. garden variety flamenco

Blessed are the wrong so willing.

Ontononymous the Particular

Take every thought seriously until it laughs you in the eye.

The dancer is only a frog from beyond when she makes you squint.

You don’t have to know genius for genius to see through you.

At my low point I find myself writing the future.

A taste for variability is born of annoyance with satisfaction.

I can’t stop my best thoughts from reversing before me.

My best shot separates me from the starting point.

Up to now holding time and space together was consensual.

There’s a point in any day where contraries escape fanfare.

Genius sees you first.

I thought I knew what I was saying when in the end I didn’t.

There was a big bang only when there is thinking.

Contraries stop constructing in self motion. [OtP]

Step back from that thought, sir, step back from that thought!

We’re at odds just standing.

No condition so serious as a bad joke. [OtP]

No flinching in error.

Her other shoe drops first.