Sunday, October 9, 2011

the lengths that i would go to: the distance in your eyes





























This Automatically Generated Response Has Titled Itself a Title I realize Only Addresses Sender Not Receiver (however, trusting the software, i send it nonetheless)





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cleardot.gifcleardot.gifjohanna faust
show details 7:13 AM (21 minutes ago)




'Fuck it, Don't Fuck With Me Anymore,  Send Me -- & If I sport a Fashion After Which Your Poetry Wears but Rarely, --- What Harm Is There In That?'
Or, You Could Preface With A Warning -- Without Which It Would Have Gone Unnoticed --  Only To Find Its Just The Thing

dear sir or sometime someone certainly
your recent communication
containing it seemed to me the delicate gossamer intricacies of everyday & moment
somehow captured and displayed without hurting them 
and, even as things-in-themselves wriggle out of one comprehension and into another
nonetheless this fact does not -- and this is the real mystery -- itself bring a screeching halt
my abruptly unsuspended disbelief
stubborn, envious, wanting only the tech, how was this done -- no --

curious this,

or perhaps not, were i tomorrow, or you, or a close friend of mine
but tomorrow, or you, my friend, or you, mr. sometime someone certainly
are not going to die when its my turn to die
do not live as i live
in the in betweens most elusive
revealed perfectly individual yet seemingly categorical 
these beginnings of knowing
another
human 
being

by their recent communication, which 
(it becomes necessary to inform 
and quickly now, before one is able)
which email, so it seems, is even now in the process of being processed
and due to unforseen um due to the um do tedium dew te deum

per force mance angst i it  
-- purr form and its high aint he -- 
-- -- prefer man's hands I & he -- -- -
- -- -- before meant & sigh ain't  -- --- ---
--- ---- performance ------------- anxiety -------------------------

this moment is new is unlike before this response this here this now we all of us rely on pattern and familiarity on reiteration interpellation
the ideal is yet glimpsed intermittently conceived daily  reinvented hourly reinvents itself constantly but it must concede it cannot remember in this process ever experiencing itself being narrated 
however haltingly 
in real time 

still it probably is nothing new

to receive reply that merely holds the place
that hopefully bears no resemblance to all the less than perfect
that briefly says dear 
dear mr keisling we are considering your last 
i am 
will reply shortly

only heaven help me for all the times i fell far short of what i see