THE HEART OF THE MATTER
10/30/2025 traveling for a bit, wanted to update before we hit the way out
The Moon Is In The House Con/Jur/d, the time of year when the leaves crunch in the cemetery After a lifetime labels of escape saying, You’re THIS We’re THAT Until, like an undead vivisection our labels, LEFT, CENTER, RIGHT hold us pinned to the landscape depressed and afraid of other contour lines, chortling, raging, falling into the darkest, deepest depression when someone suggests other topographies other altitudes, where all we see is FLAT/FLAT or ROUGH/ROUGH, a bland comfort of fear and revulsion, IDIOTS, we say a sort of prayer to the corpse God and his absent father, And yet, where there are Mountains Oceans flourished, on the Uninterrupted Horizons, suddenly a steep elevation appears, rising UP/UP YOU come home and in the kitchen, on the couch at the counter, in the corner, wherever you normally eat, sits the MOON whether WAXING or WANING the immense pressure, is FULL THE GRAVITY deforms the cozy map erases LIKE/DISLIKE LOVE/HATE GOOD/EVIL I’M NOT HUNGRY. they say and you’re glad, because you were wondering, their luminosity was erasing the border between INSIDE and OUT and the word digestive appeared more than once in your ruminations I CAME FROM AROUND HERE A LONG/LONG TIME AGO BEFORE ROCKS AND WHIRLPOOLS GOT COMPLEXIFIED MADE YOUR EARLIEST ANCESTORS time passes (you can’t say how much how little) … AND SO NOW YOU WASTE MY TIME, COUNTING GRAINS OF SAND DRAWING PRETEND BORDERS ALL OVER MY YARD? if you could, you’d ask questions which you already know the answers to like WHY US? WHAT SHOULD WE DO? thoughts like a compass rose arise, although we know where we are, afterwards, when they have left, leaving MOUNTAINS as MOUNTAINS, oceans, ponds and dew drops as reflections of DEPTH THEY brought a reminder when delusions of separateness appear, whichever direction ONE LOOKS/LISTENS there is a GLOW no matter your NAME, PHASE or, CONSTELLATION 0
Much love,
Con/Jur/d, 10/30/2025