Tuesday, August 13, 2019

An Endless Repetition of Dif-ference

I'm happy to trace
          The rim of your glass
                    Now absence
          Now presence
For the ring of openness
          To something larger than black hole
                     As operating principle

You speak now of "ethics"
                     A-gnostic at best
In being conscious of writing
                     As "endlessly empty echoes"
          How one should refuse connection
                               With others

For such would efface
           The endless recursion
                                Of self
                     Against other
           Returning to nowhere
In an endless eccentric orbit
                     Back and forth
           From the void
                                 It yearned for
           The arrival that never came

In favor of a poetics that breaks
                      The illusion
           Of infinite deciphering
                      And exposes thought
           As continual erasing
                      In the face of the distances
                                  That stay intact
                      Past all incursion

For passive writing that does not refer
                                 Beyond itself
            Un-marks difference
                      In an "echo of desistance"
To "expose us from the presencing of being"
                      Thus refusing
            To be part of a whole
                      Or an individual voice
                                  Or ballast for growth
            Somewhere else

We must acknowledge the futile impossibility
                      Of our labors
            The need to write
                      Against itself
For it exposes our lack of relation
                                  In words
                      To even ourselves
            As if all our hopes
                      Of being understood
                                  And loved
            Must be crushed at the outset
Lest "truth" be allowed to be refused
                      By something larger

So the openness freezes
            Like a preacher's trick
                      Serving emotional truth
            Before the dogma

There is only darkness
            Not at all like space