Language is logic + desire for security = the security of
reason (e.g., God). But, reaching back (genealogy) before language,
before humans, we see the long reign of dinosaurs (far longer than
current humans - our current reign) gone in an instant. Now we know,
via the language of probabilities, we too may be gone in an instant.
A throw of dice (and laughter) is a better metaphor for the mystery
and miracle of life.
One keeps coming back to Poetry - trolling the depths of
language for the essence of thought - of life - while trying to avoid
being snared in grammar (e.g., reason). Poetry starts and ends in
silence.
Music and dance are more apt ways to be. But we need poetry to
remind us of the limitations of language - to keep us from taking
language too seriously
the ticking clock
her breathing next to me
breakfast being prepared in the unit next door
sound of cars passing by
a waking moment before falling back asleep
Falling - why falling? To sleep is to trust you'll be caught -
you'll be caught by... (why give it a word?). You'll be caught by the
mystery (see how poetry keeps coming back to silence).
Sure, I'd like to get some more rest, but I don't want to miss
a moment of it, there's so much going on.
Footsteps on the pavement outside the door. The clock still
ticking towards an infinite dawn. The coming day depends on all that
has ever happened. Now I may sleep
/writing |
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