Back Matter
I’ve finished The Genesis of Language and somewhat I don’t seem to have finished it enough
It’s been a month since I wrote this last part, Back Matter, to my project The Genesis of Language. My inner poet, though, doesn’t seem to agree that it was the last part. I keep getting inspired by the classes I teach or daily conversations. Afflatus after afflatus on the treasury depths of the surface English.
Words keep sending me a new meaning everyday through waves which sound I cannot understand yet. Only today, I wrote the following notes to explore later.
Sometimes later is after I’ve written this text. It could be tomorrow. It could be next year when I’m going through old drafts as the one who looks photographs of old lovers. Perhaps it will have the same meaning it had to me earlier today when I wrote it. Perhaps I won’t have a clue. It might even get a different and spectacular new meaning.
Back Matter is a gathering of the notes I took during the writing of Genesis of Language. I write in nines. Nine is the highest note a human would never be able to listen to. Also the only stable place in the universe. A place no human can go. It is the answer to the mystery of lightness and darkness. It is the fusion of language.
Back Matter
This is getting far beyond what it was supposed to be Far beyond the potential which is what prevents the whole Image from becoming everything Nothing and then— Some point in the middle — or in its middle I’m Sure I’m— I’m sure I’ve gone mad; ++Notes From Last Week’s Medicine Effected Evenings++ 1. And the word favourite, in the end is no more than a woman under- valued by men The end, a rite 2. You will always be someone’s last option Even if your their first, if you have them now, you’re their last 3. The Ramble Triangle to pentagon Pentagram missing the golden point The rabbit hole is about the root of phi, which is about— The birth cycle of a rabbit get all musical notes when the year is through If we understood that every thing is a potential of what it could be We wouldn’t be here anymore Life is an attempt to fill gaps in circles, one piece of gold apart from the other 4. The Unconscious Hint five seconds before the lids closed Everything that happens — imaginary or real — is true It all shall happen eventually 5. Thank you for making my position a possibility Where are you? I’m here When are you? I’m here 6. The Stumble The steps are illusion Every movement of your body exists momentarily When you move again, it’s gone Lay claim to those movements Perpetuate them! 7. The English Professor on Elementary English the next day: To — you go to somewhere For — you go for something Sleep: you go to, that is, another place Another world that is no less real because of the darkness in the so-called real world Look in the mirror, what does it make it not real? 8. Einstein’s Relativity Even about the way I feel when I feel your verticality in my horizontality— Our lust are relative to one another’s They might not even exist alone I, thus, exist alone So do you 9. A Rainy Afternoon in the Country The raindrops in the mirror that moved That suffered the action of the warmth in my Breath: A million accidents Zero.Article. And, lastly, The Language: A word that has age in it from Middle English, Langage, from Proto Italic, denɣwā— The absolute root of age is also morning and eternity Isn’t every morning something ethereal and what does eternity have to do with Eternal On second thoughts, I skip every morning Trying I’m probably to skip The burden of eternity Which is the inspiring part of the ethereality shall remain Again, Lang - u - age When you tongue me, you’re tonguing eternity You’re proving it and materialising it Is that that time goes by when you tongue me? Is that that time goes by when we use our tongues? Does Language have anything to do with it at all? What does that say about it? What does that say about us? This seems awkwardly unfinished I didn’t plan for it to be like this But isn’t it all a colossal and ludicrous Unfinished act;
I usually know when a book is finished and the last poem usually starts the new project. It’s been like that for years. And every time I try to force it, it pushes me back. Poetry is accidental and it lets no one boss it around. Especially the poet. Back Matter was my vision of how it should end, but Poetry had something else in mind. I kept having those insights and yesterday, as I got home from a lovely walk, thinking about how unnecessarily extravagant verbal tenses are in Portuguese and how confusing the meanings of to be are in English, the phrase ‘The Unification of Time’ popped into my head. I got home, wrote that down and planned to take a nap. But the poem that lives already doesn’t wait. So, it became.
The Unification of Time
After the dream within the dream Dreamt by the dreamer one who’s unknown I know time goes in our eyes and our eyes Only And it stops and starts again Over and over again And I know, especially, Violet will keep the leads Violet will know the titles The stories we made of our lives To be part of the history of tomorrow’s future Just because we feel that need of importance The cat doesn’t And the cat lives Happier After the root that escaped the ground Violet knew the secret of the gods and why they are gods That a fall in twoness cannot be risen to the sky That, in the end, love is but the ability to recognise Your self — day or night — in the other That there is a Sun conducting nine strings (a broken one) And lonely strings lost among three suns That before the planetary ellipticals Before the universal measure All is, in the first senses That after the planetary ellipticals After the universal measure Do-overs, every thing is
I believe that is it. The Genesis of Language is finished and that last title is to become either a new book or a subproject. It’s all about language, anyway. It’s always been about language.
Love,
A