i do remember quiet vividly that when i was in Russia
i was never allowed to turn on
the television to be fed state propaganda:
no chicken no cluck no breadcrumbs from the Tsar's
leftover table...
now... i find myself unable to consecrate thinking
with not thinking:
there's this neo-Cartesian impasse
when it comes to juggling
the trinity of the things that:
think, extend and are nothing...
              i like my calm neo-Cartesian model:
some assurance from mathematics and its
strict abidance to geometry... blah blah...
to the squint and octopus eyed ones nothing
more than a lazily attached Q to an A...
that whole Hebrew borrowed immigrant schtick
that seems exhausted in H'America...
like Hyat! Attention! Seigl! Achtung! Achtung!
words like custardo-******* pie-oh! yong-tung!
mmmiasma mmmiasma
the reality of the stiletto and the surrealism
of the elephant...
    how Debussy is someone who gave
piano a rhythm and melody
while there is no rhythm or melody in Chopin:
not shoe shoe my red wrinkling toe makes
gestures for imitating mouth
i said: CHOP a PIN
i didn't SHOE or otherwise...
i didn't say LIST i said LISHT...
why must it be so hard, otherwise: this otherwise
being now
just enough bread and ***** to
give enough creases to the bedsheets
of the demons wearing them
and my how tiny New York (Manhattan alone)
seems
i didn't see much of the "other" areas...
but in this little town where i currently
reside who knows how big anything is
or how anything small:
but a crusty bun with pumpkin seeds
and enough butter
and if my wife keeps reminding me that
she's 18 years older i
just don't know how that will make sense
but for all her ordained prowess to feel
so empowered
she's throwing at me these stones from the Vatican
and Mecca
and i'm not the one to be
a lunatic gesticulating praises in the middle
of the day when other sensible people
are in the marketplace selling vegetables
and spewing Roman squat...
but this Cartesian model... to fathom egoism
and egoism's retraction within the confines
of the RES VANUS was
always going to be missing when presented with
the grand God and Cogito
or... otherwise...
from the res cogitans and the res extensa
because even my sensible well adept godmother:
doctor etc. etc. might ask a question
while i was falling asleep:
because i wasn't
for her to scribble some forms
and that whole scenario played out
so broken: like a scrutiny of a paraphrase:
but so alone within the demands of glue and eyes
before the television
i fall asleep
to a searching screech and by due...
i'm not here to relax i'm here to learn to drive
an elephant after being given no allowance
to drive a bicycle after already walking...
after being allowed to pay the fair for a bus...
so... talk to monkey explore the parrot's circus act
but even modern pop is so modern i
tend to opt out than to pop us
as receiving the congested messages
of scheme...