[NetBehaviour] peer, sleek, familiar song

[Alan Sondheim via NetBehaviour]

peer, sleek, familiar song

http://www.alansondheim.org/peer.jpg
http://www.alansondheim.org/sleek.jpg
http://www.alansondheim.org/familiarssongs.png

it began and ended here, crashlanded yesterday, text disappeared
in a flurry of keystrokes and exhaustive enterprise. i tried to
retrieve it here and then there and it was useless, even the
duplicate disappeared, files zz and yy, my mistake, perhaps
deliberate: i gave too much away, too much of my life placed for
your pleasure or pain, too much on record. so no, know not that
time, not that knot again, that pane through which one sees
nothing, seizes nothing on seas except endless horizons closing
in and on the body of text, history, family, errors, even some
events far worse, bringing horizons crashing down to emptiness
and the exhaustion of consciousness. the songs are familiar,
like warlocks or witches perhaps, we live with our familiars,
coming to visit, coming and reproducing into streams of uncanny
and poorly made reproductions of the real things which do not
exist and have never existed. the peering as if there were site
and sight, the sleek and barren hilltops congruent with any
planet and its moons, the familiar intrusions - familiars again
- onto the platforms of the screens we read and write across,
but really ingest, swallow, pertain to, living and dying within
their interiorities. no worlds but in worldings, no worldings
but within and without the inconcivabilities of time having no
stop and start, place having no here and there, hearing timing
and placing as if we're full throttled into the non-existence of
existence, let's say now, while we can, while we're hear, while
i'm here, gossamer bridges, the gossamer of gossamer bridges,
the fault and faults within our own fault and faults, the
vaulting of the heavens, so literary you can almost forget the
meaning of it all

"
Art-magicianis, and astrologgis,
Rethoris, logicianis, and theologgis,
Thame helpis no conclusionis sle:
   _Timor mortis conturbat me._
"

- from William Dunbar, Lament for the Makaris,
last line, "The fear of death troubles me." sle, "clever."

___

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