Concatenate through Catalisis

Consider an unabiding yet unbidden compulsion to comply.

Like how geometrical axioms are neither synthetic judgements made a priori, nor are they experimental facts.

They are conventions.

I do not enliven life through vitiating the mystical.

Yet, I use geometrical axioms everyday.

The magical, unconventional nature of all of our common conventions.

The cost of convenience should be underwritten in insurance policies.

The difference between idée reçue and idée fixe.

To understand universal symbolism you must realize

it is all subliminal.

A real dilemma, in the technical sense of formalized logic.

The associated oxyopia.

The difference between invoking and evoking.

What you see inside the mirror is just an image of reality,

a virtual reality- a dream.

So what are we, but breathing mirrors, dreaming ourselves awake with

an intuitively informed sense of discrimination, with this ability to perceive patterns.

Being perceptive is to be Praterhuman.

Someone asks: Why do you always speak in such language?

My eyes go wide, in pure surprise.

How could I not?: I blurt out.

Permittivity

The story always flows inside. Now, outside, as well. Like JM says: I see something of myself in everyone; just at this moment of the world.

From the perspective of the Pendulum’s pivot point

From which we are all hanged.

So, I pace out a one-room prowl.

Cursed and blessed our we,

tethered by our high potential of permittivity?

They shalt not treat us unkindly,

but, we may ache further(,)

still.

These indirect aspersions haunt my southern plane,

remaining innominate.

I see you,

nearly combustible from that raw fossil fuel that burns out of your eyes as hot tears.

An enflamed emanation of emotion.

A diesel engine backfiring.

A vice-president shooting his friend in the face.

A murder that occurs on account of how hot it is.

A happy death.

A shadow.

A deal with the devil that you pray to god s/he must hono(u)r.

Push it along.

.:.

~Sometimes I wonder: what is there to write that cannot already be read?

⊙The difference between flowing from and flowing into?

~No. Those states occur, necessarily, in tandem. Like a rope, strung between two cans,

conducts the sounds that the speaker/s curate.

⊙A feedback loop within an open system.

~Why repeat yourself when you can simply read those notes your previous self left to your current self?

⊙On account of how forgetful you knew and know yourself to be?

~Especially when

you have been as long as Æ has been.

⊙Your stasis is my equilibrium.

~I am bespoke you are not beholden.

You are dear to me because you endeared yourself to me by virtue of you being precisely who you are, have been, and will be.

⊙ I think you are too short to push it.

~ You think too much. Plus, I am taller than many things.

⊙I think you talk too much.

~ Then shut me up. You know howl.

.:.

Metaphysics

What of the things after the Physics?

The left over ones.

The ones with red x’s painted in the blood of autumnal sacrifices of

sweet satyrs and wicked mares.

Pass(ed) over during the Harvest.

Prepare for the final plague and

yet another Exodus from Egypt.

Recall: a tarbush is not a fez.

One have women worked under feet for ewe.

One has not but is not naught.

1st order nonsense

I hear you in magical, howling waves.

As though howling at me,

for me.

I remember standing in your circular hall, situated in front of one of twelve windows. I could only see eleven.

Just as I k/now-sees your strange, blue table has only three legs,

Æ believe twelve is your number.

I fell for the Baker and his dozen of thirteen and thirty one.

AL LA

These I found in your thirty six chambers (the dirty version).

What of the power of inaction?

I have seen it. I am re enlivening the power of actions.

Asserting my attention so that it becomes attuned to

My intent to action.

What of your golden cauldron and collar?

The triple obelisk etching adorning the table

and, your fine robe.

The position of your fingers.

An empty hand and a bespoke hand which

furls, clasping like a talon.

There shines the indigo light

about the crown of your skull, wild one.

Before the autumnal fall of Artemis the Archer

Before sound, there was vibration

with no auricular structure to perceive it.

Before these trinities came dualities.

Before syncretism came juxtaposition.

Before leverage moved mountains

and swept us off our feet,

the mechanical principle

existed unnamed.

All awaiting discovery

in this hollow solidity.

Entropic Redirection

This entoptic perspective we are individually bound to

drives me wild,

then feral.

These entotic sounds and whispers arouse.

Your hints and secrets spur.

I wear the stripe of an island.

Heraldry.

An entropic endeavor.

My vizard is my visage.

And with a double V.

VV.

I derive double ewe.

Ewer a W, you.

And, from my mask a

wizard re-enlivens.