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who's afraid of james tate? |
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emulate tzara and pull 4 numbers from a hat -- one, two, five, seven, instead of a rabbit or lemur or sonnet, which is no less awkward to reflect on if i can pull myself away from hearing babylonian tablets read on the internet in italian and dutch and hungarian accents, to connect to the aforementioned numbers: a scout troop in virginia, a sol lewitt drawing, the address of a wine shop, a model of dual turntable, a catholic catechism, a date in the middle ages, but the paint of lascaux is no match for the hebrew calendar or the buddist calendar or the icelandic calendar or any other calendars and none of these match each other so order and meter and time have been out the window for a while now with the bath water and the baby and the less than perfect motions of distant orbs, yet not a bad defect to bond with, and really, the answers probably lie in the oral tradition, but by its very definition the oral tradition is not written down so we are left to decipher our place here randomly as math or jalapeños or through some search engine query to see what spits out like rasputin or tulips or satori but no less beautiful than babylonian clay or poodles or pulling numbers from a hat. |
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