entering the absence of names

[Alan Sondheim]

entering the absence of names

how much longercan we enter the name of the Truth of Godthe Hammer of God
in this world of marvels and travelsAbsolutes which fade into chaotic and
fractal margins, no one knows the differance.debris of shame and stigma,
what we can bring to the table.the table of eyes. derailing of neuroses
with the real neuroses just beneath the surface, of the real neuroses.a
return to the moment or movement of arms, across boards, before the end of
hands.of one + | + and the other + || + and the fragility of better
worlds.subtracting from the fragility.more and more the infinitesimal
grains of the world dominated the realm of particle and pixel, as if
everything breathed a new salvation.the real faltered on both smoothing
and corrosion, integration, and the remnants of the classical
differential, once and for all epistemologically defeated.an agreement,
only to use language where applicable, "your results may vary."nothing is
ever quite finished, there is always a diacritical mark, a curl, where an
end might be a supposition. this nagging doubt or peripheral
discomfort.beginning again and again, the mauve accents of the
worldstarting to conserve what remained / in the still waters / in the
waters' dark deployit was evident the infinitesimal realm gave one safe
harbor for the real.you could see the grains of sand shimmering under the
respiration of the biosphere.--or not, and languor, and + || +neither
tulip nor pansy, this long journey back into the history of softwarewhy
can't we continue with our real voices, she asked, our real voices, our
real real voice. the hall was silent. his whole life flashed before her
eyes.everything was submerged as the glaciers melted, the icecaps
disappeared. lands skimmed the surfaces of water. an enormous mountain,
inverted, reached down to kill the world.the flush of pink and in this
season, the dark melancholy of purples and blues.


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