a poem for today, 4 September 2012
[a letter sorted sonnet of eight sentences and its image]
Perceptual practice is both empowered and befuddled by political habit and by the complex body of acquired dispositions that gives us intelligible objects to begin with.
You care, I care, but I’m done.
Emotions are for ugly people.
Pray it doesn't happen to you.
The problem appears when we use sadness as a bitter wine to drink and by drinking avoiding to act, to participate, to risk or to abandon our soft lighted comfort situation.
If that makes any sense at all.
Everybody 'comes out' today.
Blow jobs are like handshakes.