Another D@^^^ ^ poem

10/7/2023 I'll refrain from repeating, was it

Turning Words Poetics
Con/Jur/d, 10/7/2023

Dear Reader,

Whose voicebox muscles twitch as they read, translate to sound
repattern the language to fit their particular style of meaning-making
patter-patterning, all, one hopes without conscious intervention, except
for particular individualized habituated attentional weaving, in other
words (other sense-making signifiers) it happens without conscious
intervention, reliant on consensual consensus collective communication
to collate significance --

In the Book of Cases for a World Beyond Words and Letters, translated
into modern idiomatic English as The Gateless Gate, under Cause #2
we are confronted (Nay, if we take the Japanese dislike of 
Vulpe, into the brief, ‘assaulted’ would be more accurate) a monk
who due to his own karmic fortitude, has reincarnated repeatedly
as a fox and requires ‘turning words’ to end the cycle (Please see 
M.S. Merwin’s ‘Fox Sleep’ for details)  - We are confronted by
both the inability and the necessity of language to intervene, on behalf
of the ineffable, or The Way as the Ancients say, where all the good
juicy, jammy fecund matter matters - the je ne sais quoi?

Got it? Good

So how does one use, Turning Words to compose, create, gestate, 
and birth a poetics?

First, one listens, sees, feels, or touches a phrase, an image
an emotion, or a sense of some-thing sticking or resonating

sparkling, centering, arousing the you who is

the being, bigger, better, bolder who becomes the you

unbound from the happenstance of your circumstance

And then let the ‘phrase’ (phrase, for the purpose of this
glyphic transmission stands in for signaling received by
your preferred sensorium) just sit

Don’t try to mold it
Don’t try to fold it
Please, please, don’t try to mutilate it

Mostly, evolution takes millennia, so let the phrase mutate
in its own time, you can help 
by simply sitting with it
just like a bird coddles an egg
and

PECKS PECKS PECKS

when and if, necessary

And then

Let it emerge,

As a title
As a line
As an enjambment
      like the phrase
      turning words

or not at all
                 Like prayer wheels whirling
                 creating each and every
                 combination of the 9 Billion Names of God

in the Author C. Clark's version
this means a giant eye opens on the horizon
a feat you do every morning,
                                              Am I right?

Easier than you think and yet impossible to do
this game of Turning Word Poetics, Ready?

Get set           (Without thinking of good or evil or a sliver
of embellishment) 
            GO!!!

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> See that wasn’t so bad

was it?

Missing members weekend — Here’s another absurdly enjoyable — to me (YRMD) — playlist generated by the Spotify AI — called DREAMY MELLOW AFTERNOON — and indeed it is

Much love,

Con/Jur/d, 10/7/2023