in May one decides to write. poems, words, pieces, fragments
of language. space and time. to some degree of space and time. one wants to
take words. put them together. create meaning. make text. color pages. imagine
worlds. let images float. envision musical language. build sentences. found
paragraphs like institutions. argue ideas like energy as a shared resource.
expound on examples like water clean and in surplus in the post-neo-liberal
village of the future. language without limitations. minus scrutiny. to some
degree uncensored. prolific. of many characters, exploding character limits,
not 140 but 140k multiplied by a googolplex. post-neo-liberal taxation of our
thoughts, control of our desires, harnessing of our creative potential,
squelching of language as possibility. beyond corporate conservatism, discover
philosophy. reintegrate the arts. allow writing and literature to reunite
without a family squabble exploding to a throw down knock down other-wrestling-jargon
metaphor. beyond the lashing of our ideas regulated into submission making us
utter compliance replacing the word destruction with progress, progressive,
liberal is not neo-liberal or is it. beyond verbal abuse for hierarchically ranking
different versions of the same terror just wearing different colored ties and
shoes. beyond flashing images that appear to contain or include words but where
words only fail in the already-too-late-if-you-have-to-make-a-meme category of
apocalyptic symptoms. beyond the castigation of imagination that led us to the
annihilation of our only life source, the very planet where we lay our heads
unable to form words that cohere in the face of dismissal. beyond this, in
language, transcend the end raise the bar of knowledge level the field of
perception expand the horizon of insight (or outsight or any sight) explode
every notion of boldly going through from where we have come and into something
further.
