Monthly Archives: May 2006


The said, the unsaid, the half-said, the unspoken, unuttered, unformed,
unheard, misheard, unarticulated, unseen, not given, withheld,
withdrawn, flooded, excess, alignment, parallels, intersections,
divergence/convergence, the passed and passing and yet to come,
underhand, overhead, momentary, fragmentary, glimpsed, eclipsed,
shadowed, thrown into relief, the signified, ‘ingit,’ …the way
meaning is made in the spaces between things–signifier or signified,
the sign and the road, subjects and objects, binaries and alternatives.
These are not no- men’s lands–these ARE the populated spaces, the
worlds we inhabit, pass through, pass on and transgress.
And these are the realms of my captivation.

Kali, Durga, Draupadi….and Illusion

(written 4/30)

Reading about Kali. If ‘clothes’ are illusion/maya/allure, then
Draupadi’s vastraharan takes on a new resonance–did Duryodhan wish to
strip the illusory from the feminine to reduce it to abject/ object?
That was his anger, wasn’t it, that Draupadi had refused him, the
winner of Yudhishthir’s everything? Did Krishna then preserve honor,
and with it the necessity of illusion for those such as Duryodhan?

Moment and Eternity

We live in the moment, and assume its conditions are eternal.


Our dreams devour us, as the Promised Land does.

A vast mother-belly.


Am beginning to understand what Foucault meant by the care of the self in a network of power.

Blades. Written in response to another.

i found her in the rain last night.

it began when i wasn’t looking

prying loose the remains of winter,

the laborious anthills. it smelled differently,

wet earth and pouring rain remembering another dream

left behind. but i listened:

through the wooden blinds i smelled the rain

water, water of life

and its quiet, insistent drumming–

life is here. awake.

i listened

warily stepping to the window

(what if the dampness stung?)

and listened, head cocked for the prophecies

of rebirth. felt

no prophecies. those days are past,

evidently. yet there was some comfort in thinking–

perhaps the rain knows what a flood is and it knows how to weep.


If, as John Donne said, "to desire without fruition is rage," is nectar is the balance between desire and fruition?

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