7 a.m. I'm thinking
of language--how with consciousness
or as incipient consciousness or as
a consequence of that consciousness
(which came first? . . . ) language
is present in creation--with rocks
& frogs & glow sticks & microwaves
it exists
potentially
from the beginning

In the Beginning was

and wasn't, of course

I think of how we think: subject / verb / object knowing
these are believed to be brain-wired categories, boxes like Kant's ten
from the back of the book--or the front. How language centers in one cortex or another, pre-
determine all of this, including our discernment of the categories themselves.

And the brain itself, developing according to codes: whose codes?
Whose message do biologists presume? From life to life, chain letter,
telephone game.

Potent presence potentially present

Calvino knew about this. Calvino with his Cosmicomics, his deconstructed universe, his sense of how myth and logic vie--of (ov, ovum, oval, oeuf) the validly invalid constructs potential in our converging and colliding systems of meaning.

And here it occurs to me is the black hole beginning and ending:


A woman before breakfast
scribbles in a notebook
that will never see the light

words froth irresistibly
& pour with no potency
out of her

phantom structures
that imitate more public
more completed

edifice

phantoms of thought
shriveled between black wings
& smothered there

What purpose does it serve?
Will anyone want to read?

She doubts it
but the force
the potent potency

drives words forth
her six white horses
& she combs the manes

like sea froth
or the scum on broth
& the departure

excrescence, expulsion
pulsing creation
may flail in fading potency

on the dock
the horses hooves
no longer pounding

only the back and forth
of the endless sources
urging up

across the otherwise deserted sand

ready, she is ready
ready, ready & empty
wondering on this cusp

this verge, this boundaryland:

Does the world explode
from a bottomless dissatisfaction
with non-entity?