keep coming back to ruskin

ruskin's unto this last
a not so distant past

grow a peach tree
give a peach to a sick child

build many bombs
they will go down chimneys
somewhere

writing as residue

writing as residue from
"if you can say it you can play it"

taking inventory of failures
i can see where i go wrong

'negating the negation'
remain hung up on the prong

can't prophecy the future
sing the present strong

the violinist in the metro station

cuddabin joshua, cuddabin yehudi, yascha, yitsak, isack
(but maybe not yoyo, or a langlang
w. megasteinway, portable proscenium, corpsponsors)
indicative of a dying snivelization, empire, fake economy
very thin veneer very shallow patina of petrified 'kulchur'
cracking and flaking in the sun

distracted by our cells
screened in by tv and computers
busy just being commuters
cocooned by recorded music
absorbed in egotrips to egoland
can't linger & listen to each other
much less understand
we're missing all of Nature

Gaia save the tugging 3 year olds

20 hour week

"if the world as we know it was to be safe,
then we have to break up the big empires,
the big powers,
who are the cause of all our troubles."

"To be small or not to be at all.
That is the question.
The large have no future."

Leopold Kohr in "Why Small Is Beautiful: The Size Interpretation of History"
October 1990 E.F. Schumacher Lectures

decentralize decentralize
work where you live
live where you work
bring on the 20 hour week
no shirk no go berserk

everyone employed insured
on one overburdened
bored at one gig try another
stop overproduction
brother save our Mother

slomo of instant classlessness

for those of us who reject the momo [momentum of modernity]
it's easy to laugh off the pomo [postmodern?]
& relax into the slomo of instant classlessness

the show crept in guy talk

the immanent imperfection is decay and death
and no wonder colleagues in ethnomusicology
not embracing the participatory discrepancies
'the show crept' was a jirgba ahire phrase in 'guy'
the language of makurdi's beat generation
before we found igbo young men eviscerated
intestines coiled like giant caterpillars in fields
this is what state force inevitably yields

"new blossoms, full-blown, withered, gone to fruit."
scenes from the fertile 60s force these daily appeals
for goodness, long-term-thinking, tire-on-road & stuck-pig squeals
for drumming circles, dances, prayers, everyone kneels
for strange sonnets on a g-string singing death, ax, equals
don't give up on the poet inside you; make life feel real

world right side up & soon

mary don't you weep, in still moments i hear you sighing
catholic worker woodcuts can bring on healthy crying

christians absorbed by empires in endless unchanging sames
now prince of peace just another player in the foul war games

tuba mira spargens sonum horn miraculous scattering sound
steady 'persistence of residual practices' turns world upside down