Via Normativa – Colloquialities
or
(‘See just how the Essay kills the Poem’)

(To Chris Stroffolino)



Seasons are.
They simply are—as derived from God’s creation.
Seasons are not "broad brushstrokes" or "little dots" — as some baby-blue poet wrote down. Seasons just are.

“There is no in between” seasons, he said.

But there is always an ‘in between seasons’. Namely summer never ends but gradually turns into fall—the ‘in between’ is that ‘that turns into’. [turning into, turning within—what a nice little trap for those who don’t get ‘la differAnce’ from Language to Logos]
Espace, espace, espace, je vous en prie… Je veux de l’espace pour ma differaaaance… The baby-blue poet cries.

As the TV which is neither on nor off—this in spite of what some baby-blue poet wrote down.

“One might be in love. Yet, one might be over his head in love.”

And, yet again, one might put down foolish verses as these below:

“I’d noticed that ‘She will not come back to me’…
While some events wore long sleeves
Just shrouding the empty, waterless sea
To my last ship that leaves
for the Bermuda’s Triangle trip.
I once had her hand in mine
but lost the grip
‘And she will not come back to me’
I know it from some events which happened twice
Such as the crimson birds who never agree
To pay the Caron’s one-time price
And somehow turn into the birds of Paradise.
‘And she will not come back to me’
Because there’s nothing left to see
The light in my eyes vanished long before,
When ‘ever’ became ‘nevermore’.”
And on and on.


“Or is love life?”

No—life on earth is the torment God gave mankind while still in substantialised form.
You can’t understand this? Don’t mind.
You can’t actualize this? It doesn’t matter.
Because it doesn’t matter for you what mind is. And you don’t mind what matter is.

“Wriggling quanta dust themselves on.”

They use to say quanta have no particular shape, velocity or position. But don’t mind—the quanta simply are. The entangled photons they do part and depart—as a leap of Faith, as a single Being watching itself into the mirror which travels with Light’s speed within the Light.
And on and on.

You can’t understand this? Don’t mind.
You can’t actualize this? (…)

You ask: “What is the time that passes
terribly slowly if no one knows what time is?”
You might be right on this—no one is perfect.

Time simply does not exist—history does, instead. May someone prove otherwise in plain speech, God’s willing—

I’ll wait this eternity for such a QED [no dirty math formula permitted, of course].


“What is lumber but kindling in a scorching summer?”
…beautifully said, indeed. But wait, the usual PoMo dirt shall very soon obliterate any lights in the image above:

“And why is meaning such a proofless cross to carry
when you feel you make it or break it, but never both at once,
since it costs more to eat than shit, except at christmas,
as if one bad apple can spoil the whole DDT sprayed bunch
and the voice has not made the wilderness it winks in
in a myth we have to pass through, but no doubt should
edit out for the kind of network cameras we make fun of,
as if we're out of time.”

That we are out of Time is a fact—because there exists no (meta)physical entity such Time. To be ‘timed-out’ is a fiction the same way to be ‘timed-in’ is. I do repeat: there is no Time, there are only processes we try to somehow measure. By metering [see Metron (1)]— however measuring has little if nothing to do with Logos…
… See Heraclitus…

“Men have no comprehension of the Logos, as I've described it, just as much after they hear about it as they did before they heard about it. Even though all things occur according to the Logos, men seem to have no experience whatsoever, even when they experience the words and deeds which I use to explain Physis, of how the Logos applies to each thing, and what it is. The rest of mankind are just as unconscious of what they do while awake as they are of what they do while they sleep.” (Heraclitus – Fragment 1)

The Logos simply sets the pace of the Being. Measuring the Being eventually leads to measuring the Logos, and such a measurement gave no significant result over the millennia. Measuring comes from Metron. But the initial Greek notion was essential different—it addressed the Being which is lived (le vécu). Take two ancient maxims: ‘meden agan’, literally translated as "no extremes;' and ‘pan metron ariston’, literally "measure is always best. ... "

But it’s not about metering we are dealing with here—it’s about temperance, balance, and even the ‘Golden Mean’…


And see ‘master’ Pythagoras … and even Plato.

And on and on.

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1) Metron (Greek) = measure; Hence, geometry – geo (Greek) = earth, metron (Greek) = measure (The measurement of the earth). OK, the ancient Egyptians managed to square the land, thus partitioning property along the Nile, but Geometry soon was understood as what it was indeed—namely the ‘trace of Logos’, and eventually became the ‘Royal Art’.