To Life

 

To wax, or ejaculate (n.), or coconut oil.

And not ejaculate as different from the other ones, and not sexuality as has been denied to women. (and not, while I’m at it, sexuality as different from anything else)

Wax, ejaculate, coconut oil but hardened, white, and frosted crass, blocking water, melting away, allowing a slow awareness, melting a slower awareness,

Wearing a bathrobe well into the afternoon—

To the days of the week when we can live on impulse, human before reason. To the days of the week when we can live on impulse, human before use.

To the days of the week when we can live on impulse, human before thinking oneself into action: act now, think later, wear your robe well after you’re done with it, wear out your self, you’re done, you’re worn,

but wary of this wearing, wary of the afternoon at large;


life is a process with death as its product,

life’s potentially conscious with a potential conscience,

or responding to your conscience without consciousness,

but/or both eventually if not together: (er…)

death is after, forgotten, forged, got off often, a process without consciousness or conscience, or responding to without resonating within, without abstracting: a spectrum with animals at various points around the middles

and us as our self-fulfilling pinnacle,

and rocks and dirt and shit at the far end.


To gracious graceful gratuitous rocks and dirt and shit, and wax, and semen even, and of course coconut oil, many times over, coconut oil;

to each that melts at different temperatures, and we are solid, and we are liquid, and we are at least a bit soft; each is as we are without self-inflicted pinnacles.




March 2nd, 2013 - VANCOUVER