PUT ALL YOUR IDEAS IN A BOX

put all your ideas in a box
and wait

new ideas will surely come to you

then put the new ideas in a box
and wait some more time

new ideas will surely come to you
put them in a box too

keep doing this
until there is not a single idea left out

then what?
hahahahahahahahahaha

::: ::: :::

[Picture: Funny funnel by reading_is_dangerous]

WHEN FUNDS RUN OUT

I just read that the USA will likely be spending over a trillion dollars on defense in 2008 alone. I also read that they suspended the recount of all ballots in the New Hampshire Democratic Primary election, despite the significant percentage variances (from 4 to 10%) discovered until ‘funds ran out’.

I can’t resist, but to point out the absurdity of spending one trillion dollars to protect the republic, and its people, and their lifestyle, when the leaders of the same people will pretend that the nation cannot afford to pay for the simple, very important, recount of a few ballots.

We can go on, and believe that it still makes sense for Americans to go and cast their vote every once in a while, and to pay for their taxes (much of it serving the purpose of killing innocent people worldwide), and hope for world peace nonetheless... or we can try and call things by their name--but what name?

::: ::: :::

[Picture: The Old School by reading_is_dangerous]

HOW THEY LAUGHED! IN PANTOH

in Pantoh
I told them that,
the scientific method
seeks to explain the events of nature
in a reproducible way,
and therefore it will never be able to explain this,
that cannot be reproduced,
the Universe.

they laughed,
oh! how they laughed!
in Pantoh

::: ::: :::

[Picture: Tongue by reading_is_dangerous]

LET'S MEET IN ZTT

there are Dodoïs
and they walk on their own narrow path

then there are Memaïs-men
and Memaïs-women
and they too:
they walk on their own narrow path

then there are the Hapnoïs
who think they know,
because they can repeat so many things
they learned from a few many words

things they don’t even half understand
things they believe more than they know
things they wish you ate too

the Hapnoïs walk on a narrow path
of their own.

that leaves us a lot of room,
out there
across the land,
and in the sky,
and in the waters. . .
doesn’t it?

let’s meet in Ztt

:: ::: :::

[Picture: Something by reading_is_dangerous]

ON THE ROAD TO JZQA

“Could I be myself, but without you?”
was the question I asked myself
on the road to Jzqa.

the answer still evades me,
I mean us

of course it all depends on who you are,
or what

::: ::: :::

[Picture: On the road to Jzqa by reading_is_dangerous]

IN TOKTUMEH

in Toktumeh
I learned the language of the street

over there, a cobble said
this way, a curbstone said
follow me, the gravel said
she went that way, a manhole said

later the pavement told me
you were gone—out of the city

where to?
Ask the road! the gutter exclaimed

I gave to it the rose I had chosen for you

::: ::: :::

[Picture: In Toktumeh by reading_is_dangerous]

IN YRR

in Yrr
they told me that,
the original function of our dreams
was to keep the brain
from completely shutting itself down
when it is in sleeping mode

thus a lion or another predator
that might come by—
hungry—
would find you quickly back on your feet

in Yrr
they have this old saying,
‘Dreamers survive’
that can be understood in a mystical way,
like this:

the part of you that can survive death itself
is the dreaming part—
that is your soul—
so being dead means there is nothing left of you,
but a dreaming soul,
a dreamer,
a dream.

::: ::: :::

[Picture : In Yrr by reading_is_dangerous]

IN ZEHTO

in Zehto
a fish had this recurrent dream:
Water was gone,
but breathing was not a problem,
and the fish could stand on its tail,
and hop,
and at night it could reach for the Moon
and kiss it!

five hundred million years later
that dream came true--I know,
because I was there all the time,
in Zehto

::: ::: :::

[Picture: Fishman, Riversea by reading_is_dangerous]

IN MNU

there was no big,
mysterious reason for us to be in Mnu,
but many well-known and good,
little reasons to stay

::: ::: :::

[Picture: Playing cards by reading_is_dangerous]

IN FLINFLOMINCHEH

In Flinflomincheh
they breed birds
inside little metal jars

::: ::: :::

[Picture: In Flinflomincheh by reading_is_dangerous]

IN TZERSBINGER

I

In Tzersbinger a naked, pale humanoid asked me, if I would take this job to rid the cosmos of all poetry, starting with planet Earth.

Oh! What a terrible idea, I thought. How cruel, how cold! But how strangely poetic too!

My first question to the naked, pale humanoid was, “Is it an urgent job?” because I had to complete the translation of an essay on contemporary art and public space. The answer was, “Not really urgent.”

The mysterious being told me he was the agent of a “group of people” who looked at time (and everything else) from a special perspective. Indeed! Otherwise why dream of the end of poetry? But just how special was their perspective? I asked. The answer was, “It is based partly on this that time does not flow.”

I said I had heard of this before, and the naked, pale humanoid said he knew about me having heard of it, and that the so-called “special perspective” in question was not so special after all. What was important was this, that a) to rid the cosmos of all poetry was not really urgent, and b) I was offered the job. Would I take it?

I said, “Assuming this is not a joke, and if I take the job, then how much time do I have to get it done?
— A lifetime, said the naked, pale humanoid. Your lifetime.
— And how much time is that, if you happen to know about it? (I thought this could become interesting.)
— As much time as you will need,” was the answer.

Of course that did not mean, “As much time as I would want,” but exactly this, as much time as I, me, would need to get the job done. It could take me five minutes! By the way, why me? “Your name, said the naked, pale humanoid, was chosen at random from a pool of eight trillion, trillion pre-selected candidates.
— What luck! I exclaimed. What were the conditions for (unknowingly) joining that pool? I asked.
— Every one of the eight trillion, trillion pre-selected candidates wrote at least one poem—good or bad—in their lifetime,” answered the creature.

That meant only a poet could rid the cosmos of all poetry, starting with planet Earth, or so it was believed. That certainly made sense, because how could you get rid of anything unless you knew what it was or had at least of hint of it?

But how to do it? “Nobody knows, answered the naked, pale humanoid. That is why you would be given unlimited time to figure it out.”

Unlimited time, I repeated to myself. What if the way to get the job done was to stop time itself?

II

“Time does not flow, told me the naked, pale humanoid, therefore “stopping time” is meaningless. If it doesn’t move, you can’t stop it.
— Yes,” I said, and we stepped into the old conversation on the nature of time, space, motion, and everything. I asked, “If time is just another dimension of space, how come they feel different?
— Does moving up feel the same as going down or left or right? replied the creature.
— No, but that’s because of gravity.
— So moving in time doesn’t feel the same as going through the other dimensions, because of something else.
— Ok, I said, but what thing?
— What thing? Interesting question! But let us firstly distinguish two aspects of what appears to be reality. One, you cannot move freely in time. Two, it seems as if everything in the universe (you included) moved together, in the same direction, along the axis of time.”

Yes, all true! Although I thought I could remember reading about a few experiments done with lasers and other light canons, that showed photons that moved backwards, or the instantaneous transmission of information across the whole galaxy. Could those weird results have changed our understanding of the nature of time, and space, and motion? Maybe, but the ordinary experience of reality remained the same nevertheless. Why can I move freely in space, but not in time?

The naked, pale humanoid said this: “If “atoms” could move freely in four or five or six or even seven dimensions, they would have little chance to meet and associate to create more complex structures like water and oxygen, and few chances to create large molecules made up of hundreds or thousands of thousands of atoms. Extraordinary complex structures such a living cell could hardly come to be. Probabilities would be against them.
— Unless, I objected, the range of the extra dimensions was very short.
— In which case, said the humanoid, these extra dimensions would be too small for large bodies such as a protein to move freely along it.”

In Tzersbinger it was snowing. The humanoid, despite being naked (and pale), did not seem to mind the cold. As for me, I was shivering when I asked: “Is time a dimension so small that we cannot move freely along it?
— Not exactly, said the humanoid, but this reasoning could apply to the other extra dimensions.
— So what is so special about time, and why can we not move freely along it, and why does it seem as if it flows?
— And what does it all have to do with the job that is offered to you?” continued the creature.

I wanted to know, but my friend suddenly vanished. And now I wonder: Did I get the job? Did I want the job? Will the naked, pale humanoid come back and tell me: “Go for it, find a way to rid the cosmos of all poetry, starting with planet Earth!” Will I live until I…

In Tzersbinger, in the snow, I found a strange cut-off right hand, normal-sized, but made of blue Jell-O.

Then for some unknown reason I thought of a speeding truck that almost hit me some time ago—it could have been an elephant. Big, covered with snow—shaking its ears! there would have been a snow storm.

::: ::: :::

[Picture: Marcel Duchamp is playing tennis by reading_is_dangerous]

UNSTOPPABLE THOUGHTS

unstoppable thoughts
are everywhere

given enough time,
they go everywhere

given enough space,
they exist at all times.

Now poetry was born,
and later it shall die,
but “a world without poetry”
sounds strangely poetic to me.

::: ::: :::

[Picture: Swimming in dream by reading_is_dangerous]

IN SHENEE SHENAH

in Shenee Shenah
a fawn told me
about the silent star

“‘Tis black and without song;
only the sleepy trout from the frozen river
knows ‘bout it,”
the young deer told me

where space is not,
when time is not: there shines
the Sun black,
the Sun silent,
the Sun cold,
the Sun that’s not,
but in a fish’s dream

::: ::: :::

[Picture: in Shenee Shenah a fawn told me by reading_is_dangerous]