Partial

there was something we were doing while getting ready

Due to a sudden and inexplicable attack of gout — this is as close as we have gotten to the boat this weekend — Painter unknown context is Take a Break Diner — Upstate NY

Even if one is doing everything intended and things are miraculously going to plan — there is something about the ‘reality’ of partiality — the partial nature of the ‘real’

To celebrate being in partial or in partiality — Truly in agreement with ‘reality’ — here are some partial pieces from that last couple of weeks

partial 1 point 1

There seems to be no great poetry
about getting ready, on having faith
enough, the sun will rise tomorrow
the egg will cook as expected, you
will last longer than meaningless
work

Not where you live 1.2

Double negatives do not negate the no
no, you do not live, in a house with walls
wearing a bone helmet, a crenulation 
protecting a constellated light, nor is
the essential you solely a myelopoiesis
marrow habitation, flesh and fascia 
hanging from a god constructed frame

Anatomy of a Curse: Part 1.3

the real/real
hit us, the undertone
of an institutional urinal cake
the hangover, aided in its 
malfeasance, by a relatively
modest number of now
forgotten chemicals, in order
to be on the bus, to get 
vagabonding, using
the excuse of tasting
a more radical school
one accommodating freaks
in the raw, molding them to be
future threats -- probably good
in retrospect, we were unable
to make living and working
on the Puget Sound
workable -- surrounded by
a mostly working class
humanity before the embryonic
ChristoFascisism had burrowed
fully into the American psyche
permeating everything with
its sulfurous taint, the gaseous
warning signs of trauma
infected and seeping 
before the prosperity
placebo had been
seized and improved
to not only treat 
the symptoms
but to hide

the infected seepage 
at its core

We  were talking 
of the real/real, not
these fantasies thrust
upon us, the coming to
welcomed by sweat
imprinted cloth and fabric
bus seats with legroom
a copy of On the Road
sitting in the empty seat
halfway in a cornfield
remaining at that mid
point for several 
100 miles more

Realizing our folks
our friends, the cohort
as a whole, expected us
to die, soon, indoctrinated
by a sober society
SOBER

Nothing finished — everything partial — hope y’all don’t mind us sharing our compost pile — it may stink yet — it creates some gorgeous vegetables

With luck and some cooperation from my body — we’ll begin fully vagabonding tomorrow — we’ll keep you updated

Much love,

Con/Jur/d, 6/29/2024