No Need To Fear Death. There Will

All Human Desire Is Poised On An Axis Of Paradox, Absence And Presence Its Poles, Love And Hate Its Motive Energies.

A Thinking Mind Is Not Swallowed Up By What It Comes To Know. It Reaches Out To Grasp Something Related To Itself And To Its Present Knowledge (and So Knowable In Some Degree) But Also Separate From Itself And From Its Present Knowledge (not Identical With These). In Any Act Of Thinking, The Mind Must Reach Across This Space Between Known And Unknown, Linking One To The Other But Also Keeping Visible To Difference. It Is An Erotic Space.

Prowling The Meanings Of A Word, Prowling The History Of A Person, No Use Expecting A Flood Of Light. Human Words Have No Main Switch. But All Those Little Kidnaps In The Dark. And Then The Luminous, Big, Shivering, Discandied, Unrepentant, Barking Web Of Them That Hangs In Your Mind When You Turn Back To The Page You Were Trying To Translate.

Meanwhile Music Pounded / Across Hearts Opening Every Valve To The Desperate Drama Of Being / A Self In A Song.

The Presocratic Problem [all Snap Flags] Parmenides Named His Gun The Hot Power Of The Stars. His Gun Was One, Uncreated, Imperishable, Timeless, Changeless, Perfect, Spherical. Spherical Was The Problem.