Countdown

12/27/2021 all our lives

The Yellow Christ — A liberated NFT from the Albright Knox Gallery in Buffalo, NY (2012)

I’m tired of the countdowns we do — the developmental stages — the stories of success and failure — the narratives of aging — I can’t wear those shoes anymore — they’ll hurt my knees — my back

Even wearing them then — visiting buffalo for the first time in almost 30 years — because I had lost so much weight — I was trying to deny the countdown — to say “I’m from California now! You can’t keep me here with your water laced with Hooker Chemical pheromones — Or a million distractions wanted and unwanted — but I can still wear the shoes!”

And the city couldn’t hold me — and for a moment fooled myself thought the countdown had stopped — Mckenna’s ‘End of History’ countdown was just a bunch of phooey — a decade later — 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3 2 & 1 — years since I moved here from California — days ‘til we head to Belize — minutes until the inevitable compression

One gets the impression if one could just stop the countdown or the reciprocal — it simply wouldn’t happen — so I was surprised I was moved enough by the Charles Olson poem to write a response

After reading Maximus, from Dogtown II
Con/Jur/d, 12/27/2021

Charles Olson, Charles Olson
I’ve forgotten everything I knew
about you Charles Olson. I can
hear the music Charles If I may

call you Charles? You died in
Buffalo, blaming Buffalo,
And I get what you’re say --
ing, having failed 

undergrad there. Of course there
were extraordinary circumstances
not fate -- not fate -- not fate
never fate Charles,

nor, should I quote the poem
since I can’t explain why, how
where it affected me so, and 
when                 he says, “

listen to what 
I’m trying to communicate
not where you disagree”
we get what he’s saying

between, between the rising
and the lost tide, which angers
you Charles, angry about
a lost sea gone, gone away

before the glaciers pulled
back into Deep Time,
unable to take a sip
of fresh, unsweetened

unsalted  water since
your wife died, and
you moved beneath
the              waves

here in Dogtown,
Charles Olson
Charles Olson
Charles Olson.

One day there’s an ocean

The next day there’s this — what did you think we were counting to?

Freezing rain is falling, all that moves stiffens,

and stops.

Much Love,

Con/Jur/d, 12/27/2021