Category: poetry

i crave the Stars
mimicking the tears i cannot see
i left Her not by choice though
i have forgotten many of Her subtleties
which are in the waning Moon which silently shouts
yet refuses to answer except as i phase
as She feasts on my own carrion
and asks me to lose in affirmation of Her imminent infinity
if i listen

i love Her because my love, Her love is fleeting
not between presence and absence, rather
presence in the gaze of Her eyes
absence in the cloak of night
my love for Her is fleeting
as the quiver of fire
as the cutting wind
as the turmoil in the depths of the sea
as the brilliance of the Stars which i saw
but have long since burned
and the nebulae which cradle my soma

i love Her through and past the absence of these Stars
a true absence for i can see neither Her tears nor Her shroud
they instead strip Her naked and clothe Her in their obfuscating light
for they cannot imagine Her except in their buildings, their cities,
while the tombs, the sepulchres, the joyous places of
Her body devoured by the Raven yet living flesh
are cut down and forgotten 
by they who know nothing of her embrace nor demands
of her adoration nor her loss
who want the simplicity of a sky devoid of sight

She is my Mother, i Her hidden face
craving the waxing Moon
to touch as a penitent coming to a priestess or
a sibling coming to an ever-changing lover
missing

“And where does the newborn go from here?”

what are the possibilities for Pregnancy “And” Birth
if the newborn can depart and deconstruct
if the Coitus against the meeting of two {three, four, five, n, n+1}
rather “And” a third body {1 + 1 = 3i}
the third “And” body which sends the newborn on their (plural and singular) way
what are the impossibilities if the newborn always returns to the
same place
“And” becomes “only”
despite a plethora of replies and links
structured by “only”
because the “go from here” terminates

“And where” // “And when” // “and And” //

(i was born in 95 of that middle of in-between
(when there was no thread
(no optimisation
(no arbor
(tentacles and wires round
(and round
(“And” round
(in the web ring
(how might we speak of a middle in of at in-between
(of the newborn “And”
(when the 
(where the newborn always in ?

“And where” // “And when” // “and And” //

collated into the thread always in reference reflection not refraction)
“And” becomes a singular)
since the newborn “where can it go” always goes to a stream of posts)
in short)
and we react but do not Fuck)
for that requires a “We” even more expansive and grounded than “And”)
but all we have is a heavenly vertical onward march of individuated histories)
short writing short videos with reduced fields of reference)
which are only even the singular vertical “I”)
and the net always links back to this “I” is organised and structure by this “I”)
only “I” or “I” not “i” or “j/e”)
and “And where does the newborn go from here?” if the conjunction is so limited?)

“The net is vast and infinite” {not if 1 + 1 = 2 and 2 << 1 + 1}
“And where” // “And when” // “and And” //

Let this email be a refutation of the normative psychology of Autism.

Let the etymology of Autism — to be within one’s self — be sundered where this email touches our fleshes across space-time-matterings. Our solipsisms touch through our heterogeneous experiences; we recognize a need for a language which opens out our interior, yet stops short of the pathologizing language which simply redoubles barriers. I name this true language stimming, echolalia, idiosyncratic vocabularies, prosopagnosia, alexithymia, and many others besides.

We know in our souls that Autistic being is the infinite spooling out of the self, forged with the reciprocal extremity of the world’s sentience — of course, this is the true ontology of the world; the Autist is the one-in-two-in-one (argument and co-ordinate; point-to-line-to-plane) who is conscious of this.

Let us write our bodies, our minds, our souls in the full recognition of the harmonic resonance of such think-do-livings.

Let us sing for ourselves.

(17/05/2023)