The philosopher starts with a fluid, moving force and tries to seize it formally.
The poet starts with a stable form and arranges images to indicate the forces it directs.

We think of perception
as our interaction with light.

We feel our actions
as an apperception of weight.

What happens to your soul when you die?
God takes care of it.

The birth of the body.
The origin of the world.
The suffering of the soul.
The progress of history.
The death of the body.

Art is entirely about precision.
It cuts at the joints of experience.
Or it tries to.
We ignore it at our peril.

Cowardice weakens
the heart,

as insipidity rots
the mind.

Courage is to the heart
as sapience
to the mind.

The progress of history demands
the suffering of the body;
the suffering of the body retraces
the origin of the world.

The progress of history.
The origin of the world.

A poem isn't
just wrong.
It's intense.

A philosophy isn't just
boring.
It's clear.

Poetry is normative;
emotions are normal.

Philosophy is empirical;
meaning is use.*
_______
*I.e., concepts are deployed experimentally, tested in experience, "proven by use".

"God," I say, "I'm grateful. Sometimes you just come through. I don't know how you do it."

"Anytime," God answers. "Really. It's not so hard. Mostly, I just wait."

Sometimes her body is a statement,
sometimes, a command,
at times, something to behold,
something, sometimes, to serve.

We lack an adequate social imaginary of the monetary system.

Metaphysical Composure

Start with a large sheet of polished glass and a naked body. The pane of glass should be monumental in size and thickness, but perfectly transparent, perfectly clean. Set it upright on the ground and pose the body next to it. Let the body stand with its back to the glass. The head should be tilted downwards and stare to the left, into the middle distance. It should comport itself toward the glass monument like the guy at the end of the scene who hears the telephone ringing.

(reposted from 22.11.2004)

I had misgivings
about the data

on the captives.
I was mistaken.

Clarity is for concepts.
Intensity is for emotion.

Precision is for both,
and is always relative.

There are blunt objects
and delicate subjects.

Here, where the world is quiet;
Here, where the trouble starts.

The facts don't make themselves known.
Guided by method, we collect our data;
we measure things, construe them as objects.
We imagine them. We assert and deny them.

(Data is Greek for that which is given;
we need a word
for those who we take for granted.)

Acts do not proceed on their own power.
Assigned a mandate, we marshal our "capta";
we direct people, enthrall them as subjects.
We imagine them. We enjoin or denounce them.

They were perfect
for each other. She
was a sad and beautiful
woman. He was a poet.

For years, he worked
to extricate her beauty
from the policy
that governed her face.

Resigned to the task,
he labored in love.
Every poem, a failure.
Every failure, a poem.

"If you want to know me," I said,
"you must believe me;
if you want to believe me,
you must understand me;
and to understand me
you must use your imagination."

"If you want to master me," she answered,
"you must desire me;
if you want to desire me,
you must obey me;
and to obey me... well,
let me use your imagination."

The hardest thing
isn't always the most difficult,
just as the easiest
is not necessarily the lightest.

The heaviest burden
is not always the darkest,
nor is gravity,
always a serious business.

Sometimes the fool
just falls on his stupid ass,
and makes short work,
let's say, of your long face.

If you want to capture
the emotion,
you must not express
the feeling.

When you tell someone
how you feel,
they try to understand
what you mean.

It's no use pretending
you don't care
or feel something else.
Meaning is use.

Of friends, it is said,
"We lost touch."
I have lost the feeling
in my hands.
"He lost the use of his
legs," we say.
I'm touched. It's just a
feeling. What's the use?

I'm going to try my hand
at poetry, to write words
that feel right. I'll try not
to care what you think.

It's possible that we had not considered
the downside. But I think you knew
what was about to take place here
and went in with a sense of adventure.

the world
of things
that are

the history
of people
to come

Concepts
allow us to
construe
things
as objects.

Emotions
demand that we
enthrall
people
as subjects.

Knowledge
gets
things
right.

Power
sets
people
straight.

Satisfaction is to desire as justification, to belief. We may "want to believe" something (we may desire to hold something true) but in the absence of justification the belief will be irrational. Likewise, we may "think we need" something (we may believe we have a right to it) but as the desire is frustrated our passion for it wanes.

We are, ultimately, justified or satisfied, disappointed or frustrated, by experience. We cherish our beliefs, we sustain our desires, according to what we see around us and what we're able to do.

Of course, some desires are inextinguishable, some beliefs incorrigible. We may be frustrated in our pursuit of them and never let them go. We may be forever disappointed by the evidence of our senses and yet continue to believe. One must marvel at our stubbornness sometimes—our loyalty, our bigotry.