nomenclature

i wanted to start with a stage direction. perhaps a pertinent quotation. a poem, one of my own, or borrowed. a statement, an exclamation, a truth. maybe a fragment of conversation. a question, even.

but the thing is, i have already started writing before this. in the morning light, i approached the page without intention or apprehension, but those things of which we may not speak (the anything buts) were already there. i looked away, looked back. they were still there. stark reverse polarity, backlit and framed. carved inscriptions, the tomes of forever. hieroglyphs etched into hillsides, delicate arrangements of dust. shallows scream, indulgent whisper: lives foretold and pages turned. i know none of this means anything, that you don’t care, but that is the point you see, it is already there. it doesn’t matter, you can read or not read, i can write or not write but everything is there. in fact, my irrelevance and pretension, your disinterest and disdain are all ingredients. this is nomenclature.

i am an arranger and i have the necessary symmetry to succeed. i am a voyeur with the necessary perversions. i am a scribe with the required speed.

this is working, it is working!

(let’s keep it quiet.)

this of course means that you may not see those words that i wrote this morning. they are laid out like a thousand tiny stones and you may well step on them without noticing, because they speak of last night and so you would miss them even if i held them up to the light. the notion of hiding and of prolificacy arouses my intent. i am coming up to something and you are a party to the necessary secrecy. remember: no extraction, and don’t ask questions. patience, lack of expectation and faith in contraries will continue this tiny, tiny pursuit to its climax.

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2 Responses to “nomenclature”

  1. Yes, I have faith in contraries, life is full of it.

  2. Wow. Your prose is very poetic. You’re just describing writing something and I feel like you could break this down into stanzas and have yourself a poem. Impressive. “Laid out like a thousand tiny stones” “You may well step on them without noticing” These are lines of poetry. Very nicely said!

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