The De Rerum Natura of Lucretius is the first great work of poetry in which knowledge of the world tends to dissolve the solidity of the world, leading to a perception of all that is infinitely minute, light, and mobile. Lucretius set out to write the poem of physical matter, but he warns us at the outset that this matter is made up of invisible particles. He is the poet of physical concreteness, viewed in its permanent and immutable substance, but the first thing he tells us is that emptiness is just as concrete as solid bodies. Lucretius’ chief concern is to prevent the weight of matter from crushing us. Even while laying down the rigorous mechanical laws that determine every event, he feels the need to allow atoms to make unpredictable deviations from the straight line, thereby ensuring freedom both to atoms and to human beings. The poetry of the invisible, of infinite unexpected possibilities—even the poetry of nothingness—issues from a poet who had no doubts whatever about the physical...

and i found myself thinking



who have you become?



where'd the rest of you go?




how did this happen?



and then i thought:
right now it doesn't matter.
maybe sometime it will again.

with that, everything became simple.

back to the world .

at sunset trails of fog had crept along the tops of the grasses in the marsh and the low-tide mud was glowing blue.
residents of the street i walked along were gathered at the marsh's edge, watching.

Delphine the Plastic Hermaphrodite Oracle of the Woodstove.
Three of us nailed her mermaid disguise into a corner of Pirate Bendy's.
She is bile green. She has a rococo penis.
She tells you what you do not want to hear.
But you can never quite make it out.








You look at her and think: I know something just happened.

Last night I wore my aviator hat & drove top down very fast along inkblack country roads, node in a circuit of affect, speeding to escape it, leaving a wake of electrical forms that twitched and snapped, expiring in my rearview, illuminating aspects of the nothing above & the nothing behind.

I write my dreams and a tightening comes in my chest.
Every dream becomes a letter.
I delete the words bit by bit. Watch it crumble. Ash in my mouth.

You are standing amongst 6 marble columns waiting for instruction, for the voice to arrive again and frame for you the situation. From a speaker ship positions at sea, plot lines elsewhere. Beyond the cut. The distance from.