Monthly Archives: March 2016





sitting in the silence
of my cold and humid home—
i sense a growing guidance,
as Taja gnaws her bone:
i cannot make the world a beauteous place alone.

the truth’s we need each other
to fight the rising tyrants—
a sister and a brother
against an aimless violence—
time after time we’ll link our arms to new horizons. Continue reading

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to sit at the typewriter and transcribe the thoughts
that had occurred to you moments ago while
defecating into a porcelain bowl
wondering how many of the great minds stared into the distance
of space and time and how many times they looked down
and saw what i was looking at now. Continue reading

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selections from The Time Machine by H. G. Wells

[…] that luxurious after-dinner atmosphere when thought runs gracefully free of the trammels of precision. (3)


“Clearly,” the Time Traveller proceeded, “any real body must have extension in four directions: it must have Length, Breadth, Thickness, and—Duration.” (4)


“Time is only a kind of Space.” (5)


“You can show black is white by argument,” said Filby, “but you will never convince me.” (7)


“Our ancestors had no great tolerance for anachronisms.” (7)


“Then there is the future,” said the Very Young Man. “Just think! One might invest all one’s money, leave it to accumulate at interest, and hurry on ahead!”

“To discover a society,” said I, “erected on a strictly communistic basis.” (7)


“Presently, as I went on, still gaining velocity, the palpitation of day and night merged into one continuous greyness; the sky took on a wonderful deepness of blue, a splendidi luminous color like that of early twilight; the jerking sun became a streak of fire, a brilliant arch, in space; the moon a fainter fluctuating band; and I could see nothing of the stars, save now and then a brighter circle flickering in the blue.” (20)


“It seemed to me that I had happened upon humanity upon the wane. The ruddy sunset set me thinking of the sunset of mankind. For the first time I began to realize an odd consequence of the social effort in which we are at present engaged. And yet, come to think, it is a logical consequence enough. Strength is the outcome of need; security sets a premium on feebleness. The work of ameliorating the conditions of life—the true civilizing process that makes life—humanity over Nature had followed another. Things that are now mere dreams had become projects deliberately put in hand and carried forward. And the harvest was what I saw!

“After all, the sanitation and the agriculture of to-day are still in the rudimentary stage. The science of our time has attacked but a little department of the field of human disease, but even so, it spreads its operations very steadily and persistently. Our agriculture and horticulture destroy a weed just here and there and cultivate perhaps a score or so of wholesome plants, leaving the greater number to fight out a balance as they can. We improve our favourite plants and animals—and how few they are—gradually by selective breeding; now a new and better peach, now a seedless grape, now a sweeter and larger flower, now a more convenient breed of cattle. We improve them gradually, because our ideals are vague and tentative, and our knowledge is very limited; because Nature, too, is shy and slow in our clumsy hands. Some day all this will be better organized, and still better. That is the drift of the current in spite of the eddies. The whole world will be intelligent, educated, and co-operating; things will move faster and faster towards the subjugation of Nature. In the end, wisely and carefully we shall readjust the balance of animal and vegetable me to suit our human needs.

“This adjustment, I say, must have been done, and done well; done indeed for all Time, in the space of Time across which my machine had leaped. The air was free from gnats, the earth from weeds or fungi; everywhere were fruits and sweet and delightful flowers; brilliant butterflies flew hither and thither. The ideal of preventive medicine was attained. Diseases had been stamped out. I saw no evidence of any contagious diseases during all my stay. And I shall have to tell you later that even the processes of putrefaction and decay had been profoundly affected by these changes.

“Social triumphs, too, had been effected. I saw mankind housed in splendid shelters, gloriously clothed, and as yet I had found them engaged in no toil. There were no signs of struggle, neither social nor economical struggle. The shop, the advertisement, traffic, all that commerce which constitutes the body of our world, was gone. It was natural on that golden evening that I should jump at the idea of a social paradise. The difficulty of increasing population had been met, I guessed, and population had ceased to increase.

“But with this change in condition comes inevitably adaptations to the change. What, unless biological science is a mass of errors, is the cause of human intelligence and vigour? Hardship and freedom: conditions under which the active, strong, and subtle survive and the weaker go to the wall; conditions that put a premium upon the loyal alliance of capable men, upon self-restraint, patience, and decision. And the institution of the family, and the emotions that arise therein, the fierce jealousy, the tenderness for offspring, parental self-devotion, all found their justification and support in the imminent dangers of the young. Now, where are these imminent dangers? There is a sentiment arising, and it will grow, against connubial jealousy, against fierce maternity, against passion of all sorts; unnecessary things now, and things that make us uncomfortable, savage survivals, discords in a refined and pleasant life.

“I thought of the physical slightness of the people, their lack of intelligence, and those big abundant ruins, and it strengthened my belief in a perfect conquest of Nature. For after the battle comes Quiet. Humanity had been strong, energetic, and intelligent, and had used all its abundant vitality to alter the conditions under which it lived. And now came the reaction of the altered conditions.

“Under the new conditions of perfect comfort and security, that restless energy, that with us is strength, would become weakness. Even in our own time certain tendencies and desires, once necessary to survival, are a constant source of failure. Physical courage and the love of battle, for instance, are no great help—may even be hindrances—to a civilized man. And in a state of physical balance and security, power, intellectual as well as physical, would be out of place. For countless years I judged there had been no danger of war or solitary violence, no danger from wild beasts, no wasting disease to require strength of constitution, no need of toil. For such a life, what we should call the weak are as well equipped as the strong, are indeed no longer weak. Better equipped indeed they are, for the strong would be fretted by an energy for which there was no outlet. No doubt the exquisite beauty of the buildings I saw was the outcome of the last surgings of the now purposeless energy of mankind before it settled down into perfect harmony with the conditions under which it lived—the flourish of that triumph which began the last great peace. This has ever been the fate of energy in security; it takes to art and to eroticism, and then come languor and decay.

“Even this artistic impetus would at last die away—had almost died in the Time I saw. To adorn themselves with flowers, to dance, to sing in the sunlight: so much was left of the artistic spirit, and no more. Even that would fade in the end into a contented inactivity. We are kept keen on the grindstone of pain and necessity, and, it seemed to me, that here was that hateful grindstone broken at last! (32-35)


“I am too Occidental for a long vigil.” (40)


“Then suddenly the humour of the situation came into my mind: the thought of the years I had spent in study and toil to get into the future age, and now my passion of anxiety to get out of it.” (40) Continue reading

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A Riddling Tale

Three women were transformed into smartphones plugged in at the local electronics store. However, one of them was permitted to spend the night in her own home. Once, as dawn drew near and she had to return to her companions at the store to become a smartphone again, she said to her husband, “If you come and pick me this morning, I’ll be set free, and I’ll be able to stay with you forever.”

And this is exactly what happened.

Now the question is how her husband was able to recognize her, for the three smartphones were all the same without any distinguishing mark. Answer: Since she had spent the night in her house and not at the store, her battery had not charged fully as it had for the other two. This is how her husband was able to recognize her. Continue reading

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Stranger seem they who stomach the return when once intimate with their zenith of pleasure they had jettisoned away. Strangers to this strangeness seem stranger still, for they have yet to cast off.



the spider on the sill—
a-swinging on her wheel—
a weave among the rain—attempting to be still.

the black, obedient dog—
our souls in analog—
a sniffing, listening creature wandering through the fog.

the fruit upon the table—
glowing brightly—nothing sable—
all yellow, orange, red—bleeding citrus staples.

the books with humble words—
in inky flocks like birds—
unfurling wise old wings that rhyme in lines of thirds.

the icy drinks in glass—
just buoyant bubbles, grass—
dissolving artsy minds in poetry with mass.

apes lounging in the kitchen—
some buying—selling—visions—
across the marketplace of psycho-stellar fission.

why not end it now—i say—fuck it—
let’s leave the seventh stranded in a lonely couplet! Continue reading

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Taja dressed for Tahoe

IMG_7044 Continue reading

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the “F” word


A wealthy white man capitalizing on the sorrows and fears of a trampled, neglected people. A privileged person profiting from hate. Nerves on edge. Violence in the street. Cameras feeding us footage; we, mutts at a feast of mass-produced chaos. Good for the industry. Business outlook good. Buy. Buy. Buy.

And one can’t help but whether it’s all a distraction.

All the while, people live on those streets. People drift directionless, abandoned. People float in rafts across ancient seas. They are searching for peace. Fat cats make sure their commodity-carrying tankers can pass freely. Are they searching for peace? Warplanes circle overhead. Are they searching for peace? Manhattan-sized arctic shelves crumble and drift southward into the rising sea. Are they searching for peace?

We sit and watch and wonder: are we searching for peace?

Meanwhile, we’ve become a bit shorter of breath. Forgot to drink a glass of water. Didn’t go for a walk today. Didn’t realize spring was only a week away. Happy belated birthday to you. How old am I? How many years have passed? Have I been living life or have I been dying a slow death?

Many thousands of years ago, an ape wrote a “Prayer of Death.” It went something like this:

If you think your life will have no end—
Your foolish days are numbered.
Go and waste your time trying to pretend—
Still—You’re bound for eternal slumber.

And the wicked men who rule this land—
With all their wealth and power—
Are bound to die like you and I
And none can tell the hour.

And so they will. And so will we.

So let’s live in freedom now. Let’s not wait for heaven. It’s here. We’re here.

Let’s live in freedom now. Let’s not wait for a savior, whether we imagine that savior to be a master of technology or master of war, a wealthy ape or poor ape, a man or woman.

Let’s live in freedom now by living with each other. Let’s live in love. Continue reading

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Continue reading

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Grief is a Mouse—
And chooses Wainscot in the Breast
For His Shy House—
And baffles quest—

Grief is a Thief—quick startled—
Pricks His Ear—report to hear
Of that Vast Dark—
That swept His Being—back—

Grief is a Juggler—boldest at the Play—
Lest if He flinch—the eye that way
Pounce on His Bruises—One—say—or Three—
Grief is a Gourmand—spare His luxury—

Best Grief is Tongueless—before He’ll tell—
Burn Him in the Public Square—
His Ashes—will
Possibly—if they refuse—How then know—
Since a Rack couldn’t coax a syllable—now.

IMG_6971 Continue reading

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Screen Shot 2016-03-03 at 9.13.17 AM Continue reading

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