Share of Voice

The imminent sorrow of the flaccid designator.

End of First Collection Entitled Peeping Mot

A blog becomes a booklet.  |  150 epigrams & concerns: 2010-11.


That while the language is not transparent, the language may see me through.


That poetry recapitulates the basic problem of language as forced entry –– or invention.

That the basic problem of language is reachability.


As with the family, or the living, or the poem––

We cannot compare.

Just stop equivocating–– you know that

The basic problem is reachability.


We must fight stupidity with color.

Further Theories on the Graph

Sadness is wasted on the beautiful. Indifferent to its own capacity, beauty absorbs sadness as if a dispensation.

Beauty is an urelement; it seeks companions, but cannot commit to be compromised.

Sadness is a reduction.

Beauty often volunteers, but rarely communicates.

The moment of the beautiful cannot be depleted, and the career of sadness is toward depletion.

Sadness fails to individuate. Its transitive force exhausts itself in beauty's distended hypothesis, which is unanswerable, save for the wasting challenge of time.

Beauty has too few concerns, whereas sadness is always evidential.

The beautiful is wasted on the sad, who seek closure. But beauty, forever eligible, incapable of losing, it has an open face –– occupying space without a wasting rhyme.

Where sadness and beauty intersect, all action stops.

Node Failures

  • The transitive relationship between sadness and beauty is refutation.
  • Reachability: beauty and sadness each fails to disclose it.


That every poem is lifeist.


That all poems are derivatives.

Halfways house.

   ––Peeping mot.

Looking at you suggests a half-way solution. But then again, you offer me your half-way solution, and there's suggested laughter.

Wry animal face, are you an ethic over there to relieve us from these summing permutations?


That poetry is insufficient cover for professional opinions.


That the poem in its career is primed to the warrant of the Literature.

Visible Settlements

Hesitation is the actuary of the poem. 

All this forsaken urgency, contemplated as risks to a public business, like nyjer seed scattering across a ledger.

Actuaries at Peace

Anything is the measure of joy.

The most important thing is not to die.


A deep unremitting intelligence, its extensibility, and then the fear of attenuation.

It could be livable.

That despite all this freighted expectancy, it comes wrong.

That despited


That despite all this freighted expectancy, it comes wrong in the poem.

This Time It's for Real

Against expression.


All this endurance of the business and the cruelty to arrive at reticence–– and retention?

A hold-back project, as nostalgic as self-loathing, even where the self is accidentally yours.

My son is also against expression, mostly anxiously, surprised or unsure that he is also a container –– until periodically he arrives at a consensus and participates –– shitting copiously, and gratefully.


Does humility concede a force, or is it mere reluctance?


There is confession and then there is Tripoli.

Which is to say that confession communicates the least.


All this language training, and then it's the 'bas-reliefs of earth.' There's no scale for speaking absent the target. A mass of curls, a human project, a boy to speak to –– the mottos exhaust the givens.

And then there's this motto: Candor is the brightest shield.

I want nothing more than direct address, though it delivers nothing more than a person, and that won't be enough.


A motto, out of deep water, and then abandoned to quotation, as say the 'white creature of chalk pounded', or material sum. These examples won't explain it, and can't infuse like a drumbeat these four limbs you're still testing, and testing.

Grow old with me, laboratory.


Coactivity is the evidence of trust. This son, in his busybody quickening, could hatch societies from all of this sudden planning.

I'm only a bondsman in my heart, and my instruction could never be fair to this exuberance: "first ideas." And not just mine.


I'm proposing that thankfulness stands apart from decay. It's not a grooming, or unequal reaction to some splintering oak in the backyard. But it's neither indifferent, this positive, furtive strength.

I'm proposing it, as if it were some eternal notion.


That this poetry must assert its vocabulary sub specie aeternitatis.

Spinoza Joke

You can't end a sentence with a proposition.


Enduring task lists, the 'yous' that accumulate in this spasm of accountability.

You are the low answer. You, this accommodationist.


Books thrown to the floor, a test, and protocols scattered. And my 'role' to be corrective, as if the right way lost.

Does forgiveness presume an assignment?

Rookie Life

Define answerable.


That the poem is a test against the living.


That the poem is always in its lean-to phase.

Propositional Syntax

  • I have carried this image to you for so long.
  • I have carried this image of you for so long.
  • I have carried this image for you for so long.


That freedom is known as transport while contingency is known as carrying.

I have carried this image to you for so long. 

It has transported me to a human element.