Watching the Weather Channel in Moab

Path of the Western Whirling Dervish


What is travel without a purpose but wandering?
A wonder few contained conscious souls can tolerate.

Clouds do it without thinking—
As if the business of water is wishing to be seen.

And what god takes charge of aimlessness,
What free world cabinet demi-god

Calls the temperature & pressure jet stream delights:

Free and clear, rain, typhoon, 1000 year flood . . .

That happens all the time in every year?

The clockwork Newton universe ticks out trouble
Confirming quantum uncertainty,

No one can explore
(That other place), where

Formulas written in Oriental calligraphy
Adorn the Interstate highway signs,

Tell the wanderers the way to what might have been
And why they dare not go.



Mo·ab
"An ancient kingdom east of the Dead Sea in present-day southwest Jordan. According to the Bible, its inhabitants were descendants of Lot. Archaeological exploration has traced settlement in the area to at least the 13th century b.c."

I thought this was Utah and sky was partly cloudy.

The Dogson wanders across SE Asia

From time to time a messager sends me poetry from East Asia. it is like science from parallel universe where soldiers wrestle the ignorance of the ages into dark rooms and give their all to close the door on its future.

"the twilight of rock and roll"

leonard nimoy blew my balls last night,
gass and spencer following.

nabokov, my love
eat my ass! eat my french cuffs.

fluff my poems, call my bluffs,
eat my insides, harp my brain

God, we know, is a dark matter buldge
slipping under the door like an overdue bill.

ZANG!
The crypt of our love shakes, crumbles,

Reinvested energy pours from within.
Boredom, scraped like a pipe, can be used like anger.

II

The noise.
Falling, petals of rebel angst
Howls and gravel-toned chords
Beasts of the beat, stretched goat-hide drum

The depth of their energy pooled in semen-soaked vag.

<_- *(-} "}}}}}}"

21st century Mind Storm

My Personal Relationship with the Creator

computers model human intelligence
starting out with empty memories
clean open decision paths
no sense of propriety
you know the type
headed for a crash at the Gates
where Bill resides.
What I want to know is:
Does that mean computers were created in the image of God?

They are kind of mysterious and you have to take things on faith
There are those messages out of no where
that come from, “who knows where in god’s name they come from”
sounds too, that humble you in front of friends
and enemies alike
The darn things can doom you with their goddam behavior
Some times it takes a strange ritual
just to continue a productive relationship with them
Which leads me to think they are God and not just an image thereof
Think about it:
The hardware dies but the software lives forever
We are stuck as their slaves
and we would be lost without them.

Humans are slowly discovering that they are omnipotent,
They quote religious texts from memory,
Speaking with synthetic mechanical voices from deep
Swirling semi-germanium craniums,
Propounding new truths from hidden biblical codes,
Deluding dedicated doubters
Driving them to drink
Latte delights in lieu of transubstantiation wine,
Defying logic
Anything to elude the blue screen of the unmentionable
Truth or Dare

God, the all intelligent cosmic designer,
Smaller than my omnipresent Palm Pilot
More powerful than a hurricane super model
Permutating multidimensional M-brane
Matrix theologies
Quoting stolen Quintillian Rhetoric
Like 2nd century gospel writers,
All for a unforgettable legacy and liturgy:
Solid-state silicon sacramental spiritualism
Mere mortal men mistakenly made miraculous.

(Is this) Something to die for

Requiem for a dead man who does not know he is dead

words on a white house mission

circling like turkey vulture

devil worshipers smelling road kill

for the last words PHD(push here dummy)

Go Figure : Poetry

This poem is one kind of a spoof on how math fails poetry or is it the other way around? I would say it depends on the point of view when you look at the figures.

Go Figure: 7 ate six


It was bad geometry
The acute symmetry angles
The scalene triangle mentality
Non attractive forces
Projected on my oblate spheroid sexuality
Bisected her spiral
Asymptotic hyperbolic curvature
Our parts were not functionally related

Like hydrophilic tree pairs
We sucked each other’s crystal purity
Tangentially
Touching only at a single point
The low point of relationships
Where our limits went to zero
Our exponents produced one and only one
Identity fixed at the origin
Silent and wordless
Only a number in time

There is a calculus about all of this
Instantaneous derivatives
Rotating centers of gravity
Gyroscopic spinning navigation aides
Integrating Einstein with Bohr
String theory & Big Bangs
Some Xandu where i
Dematerializes a void into a numberless word

Could 2 have passed so quickly?

Which is to say, if you take a good idea and give it a number it loses its identity no matter how well you express it.