tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:/posts escribblings 2019-11-08T19:15:28Z tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1475263 2019-11-08T19:15:28Z 2019-11-08T19:15:28Z Information + Technology

Information

I just came back from a Vipassana meditation retreat. After unplugging completely from every element of my normal life for ten days, I’m staying at a quiet house in the outskirts of Boston allowing myself to selectively reintegrate into the flow of modern life. 

At the retreat we had no access to our devices, no entertainment, and nearly zero interpersonal interaction. We spent the entire day either eating, meditating, or walking circles around the small wooded path behind the center. 

Having that separation from all of the stimulation we normally encounter made it easier to meditate. Now coming back to the world of conversations, screens, and notifications, I find that as I sit down and try to clear my mind for meditation, there’s much more stuff bouncing around in my head. This mental clutter is easier to notice when you try to meditate but it’s bothersome at all times in less obvious ways.

At the root of the problem is the unconscious reactive nature of the human mind. Below the surface of our conscious thought processes we have endless “background processes” running which take whatever input we are experiencing and transform it into some new thought, impulse or action. In Vipassana meditation we use a technique of self observation to start de-programming these reactive mental patterns. We reflect on how by allowing our reactions to run away the natural result is that we experience strong feelings of attachment and aversion that reinforce these unconscious processes. 

After several days of doing this practice one does indeed begin to have a much stronger sense of mental clarity. Focus is achieved more easily during meditation and a deeper understanding of one’s patterns starts to naturally arise. Unresolved emotional memories from the past surface. In part this comes from the cultivation of a less reactive, more observant mind, but there is also another extremely important factor: the absence of any new information during the retreat.

Even the most reactive mind will become more still if the system of reactions and thoughts is not given any new input to feed off of. When I got back to the world outside of the meditation center it immediately became clear to me that we live in a world saturated with information and technology that makes it easier than ever to access it. This information provides the fuel that kick starts the old engine of unconscious mental processes. 

All of this is to say that when we learn something, watch something, have a conversation, read a piece of news, or even walk down a busy street, we are consuming information, and this information comes at a cost. Whatever content we take in will be bouncing around in the mind for hours or even days to come until we start consuming more to take its place. 

What becomes clear when meditating is that absolutely anything can become fuel for the thought engines of the mind to start running amok. While news, conversations, and media are obvious examples of information, food that we take into our body or even a single inhalation can grease the gears of the mental locomotive. The more emotional weight a piece of information carries, the more potential it has to echo in the mind. 

Seeing this clearly after being in retreat has made me want to change the way that I consume information to be more intentional. While there are many channels that information can come through - I focused on one, and below is an explanation of how I want to try to use technology different to keep myself further from the Internet’s information blast radius.


Technology

Technology is a vehicle for information addiction. This excessive exposure to new information ensures that more and more thoughts will be echoing around in the mind, triggering unconscious emotional complexes and preventing mental clarity.

At the same time, we want to use technology as a tool to help us achieve our goals, and in some cases we may want entertainment. To clean up our interaction with our devices it’s helpful to distinguish our intentions of use from the moment we turn on a device as belonging to one of these three categories:

(1) Create something, send something, write something, etc. (i.e. using technology to create an output)
(2) Retrieve information which is relevant and necessary to a current situation. (e.g. checking the address of an event you are going to, googling for instructions on how to complete a task, reading a text from a friend who is on the way)
(3) Discover information for entertainment or general learning (e.g. scrolling Facebook news feed, reading the New York Times, clicking through Wikipedia)

As you have probably experienced, a major issue with our technology interaction is that the three above purposes are often distractingly intermingled. We start off with an intention to do (1), then perhaps need to do (2) in order to complete it, and then suddenly we realize that we’ve been doing (3) for the past 10 minutes. Of course this is by design - the creators of our technology have a vested interest in pushing us down the funnel towards (3) where we are exposed and receptive to advertising.

So to begin with it is helpful to eliminate every vector for the introduction of (3) when you are trying to do (1) and (2). For me this meant disabling “news” from my phone’s home screen, turning off notifications for a large number of apps, and only having relevant windows / tabs open at a particular time to whatever my current task is. In addition special care should be taken when venturing into high risk zones like Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram. Sometimes you need to visit these territories for (1) and (2), and you can use it as an opportunity to practice determination in sticking to your planned use.

Another risky moment occurs whenever we are using technology to accomplish (1) or (2) and then we either complete the task or become fatigued and need to take a break. In these moments the lull makes it incredibly tempting to switch over to (3).

For pauses that result from the completion of one task, a good to-do list practice will close the gap where temptation to switch to (3) would creep in. Having completed one task, you go to the to-do list to mark it as “done” at which point you also see your other tasks and have an opportunity to start a new one if you aren’t too tired.

On the other hand for a pause that comes from fatigue for example if you are writing a long essay (1) and just can’t think of the next sentence, one must recognize that the source of exhaustion is as much in the sustained use of the device as it is the work itself. While doing (3) might seem tempting as a way to take a break, it won’t be nearly as restorative as simply taking a couple minutes to discontinue your use of the device completely and look around, stretch, etc.

Of course there may come a time when we do just want to be entertained, to discover, or to learn. That is ok. We can do (3) sometimes. It will still introduce information which can echo in our minds and cause distraction, but when we do (3) intentionally and equanimously, it is far less dangerous. 
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tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1467788 2019-10-19T16:41:18Z 2019-10-22T21:19:42Z Indomitable Spirit

Since I started doing Taekwondo as a kid, I’ve had to memorize and repeat five terms that are considered the principles of the martial art. These five tenets are courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control, and indomitable spirit. My mom used to always laugh when she would quiz me on these before my belt tests as a child, particularly the arcane sounding “Indomitable Spirit”.

Now I’m 30 years old and have returned to Taekwondo for the second time in my life after a long hiatus. I stopped for four years during high school to do team sports and again for six years after college when I was building my start-up. I am testing for my next belt and was asked to write an essay describing what "Indomitable Spirit" means to me.

The typical definition for "Indomitable Spirit" is that when things are challenging, you keep going. In that way this tenet is not much different from “Perseverance”. But I like to think that in the past 20 or so years of my life since I’ve had this oddly worded principle bouncing around my head, I’ve come to a more nuanced understanding of what it means to me.

My personal definition for "Indomitable Spirit" really is about spirit. In the stack of things that make up a human: a body, mind, heart, and spirit, the spirit is the deepest, and the one element of our self which is truly indomitable.

No matter what we do, our body will always be vulnerable to physical pain. The body can get sick, exhausted, or be confined against our will. We can’t guarantee that the body won’t be “dominated”. The mind is also vulnerable to doubt, stress, or compulsive thinking that can be beyond our control. And emotions can be overwhelming regardless of, or even because of, our attempts to control them.

The solution to the vulnerability of the body, mind, and heart is not to ignore physical and emotional pain. It is in fact to accept this discomfort fully knowing that deep within, it can’t overwhelm or dominate the deepest part of us - the spirit.

When we view the spirit as a sanctuary, it allows us to shift our attitudes towards the external causes of suffering. While one who allows their self to become identified with the pain they are going through might consider the suffering worthless torture, a practitioner of “Indomitable Spirit” sees these struggles as an opportunity to strengthen and refine the inner sanctuary of the spirit. 

For me this practice has grown hand in hand with my study of Taekwondo. In the course of training I’ve faced physical pain and exhaustion. When I’m able to separate myself from that pain, to know that while it impacts my body and mind, it can’t dominate my spirit, then I’m able to suffer much less even while pushing harder.

This practice starts simply with a belief, if we are willing to accept it, that our spirit, the innermost part of our self, is indomitable. 


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tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1463362 2019-10-06T14:36:44Z 2019-10-06T14:36:45Z filler words Pantsy oodle mop trinket cloud hop
sky lime cherry hound pin prick
igloo slider ham salary 
court drizzle ankh
torte palace slash 
bananaza
several 
gyrate 
wand
arch.
Immunity Oscar. Gangrene Emmy
Witchita Slim and the bad Oyster
loop mound hip swamp watch
old drug wagon, pad whit
if unf ond orp elemus wh
inf unf orf elemusf
nf orf elemsfw
fnorelemsf
orlmsf
mfs
put him on drug watch
cannabis calculation
gram ounce master
him on drug watch
ink quill inmate
verse shank
sharpened
tooth ink
drug wh
drg wa
grawt
wat
tw
pwut im own drug wetch
knabbiss claculation
grum inch muster
own is drug wrch
krwill mate
shnack
tooth
ink
nk
o
o
o
Looking up from the clipboard, tethered ball point firmly gripped in his right hand, the psychiatrist met the warden’s gaze dead on. Without a twinge of emotion, he gave his recommendation, “Put him on drug watch,” He said. “And keep him away from the others for now.”

Turning back as he left the room, “I’ll be here again in two weeks time,” and he shut the door. 
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1462719 2019-10-04T15:08:28Z 2019-10-04T18:31:22Z climate thoughts the UN summit happen
people care about climate
amazon rainforest burns
backyard oak tree dies
Thunberg stirs feelings
people care about climate
peel the tinfoil off the
Chobani
rinse
“this goes in recycling”
wildfire season starts
a dog poop on the street
October second: ninety and muggy
October third: fifty and rainy
winter’s first chill
drizzle big apple
some im🍑ment
rosy cheek spank
香港 protests violently
us winners
won the hackathon
Thunberg is silent
clouds rumble 
in the distance
winter coming
people care about climate
you care about climate
I care
about frogs
trees
the experts disagree:
action?
inaction?
maybe pump
the coldness
of outer space
down clouds
and ozone
onto sweaty metropolitan
subway platform
jam pack
people care about climate
but disagree on how to care
how much, how often,
what’s possible and what’s
“just not gonna happen”
or is it
all brains churning
to solve climate
warming the world
like an overheating MacBook Pro
burning the leggings clad thighs
of some fit millennial
i’d probably
take too glances at
Waverly
on W 4th st.
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1455780 2019-09-16T01:44:14Z 2019-09-16T21:39:35Z walking in central park Nadie me dijo
el dolor ascerbico del presente,
y cuando lo descubrí,
fue en un sueño
entre los dedos de mis pies,
bailando algo loco,
gritando su tristez
en disfraz de "un dia normal.”

I couldn't explain this in English
as I wrote the poem on my phone,
in stride, 
dodging tourists in Central Park,
not on mushrooms.

It was a little simile,
a beautiful stranger who
passes on the street:
you have to 
look back.

“I’ll take care of you,” the trees told me.
There were still horses then,
children
and yellow leaves.

“These are last fall’s leaves.” she said
And she said many other things as well.

When I started this poem I asked
"What would J.W. read?"
What wouldn't J.W. read?
J.W. is a halibut.
She is Billy Jean and
also she is not my lover.

Wandering poets,
brains all molten
at the pit of the wishing well.
Dip a bucket in me.
Dip a bucket:
my water 
is brine.

My water is brine because I held my tears
and her hand
all night
all those nights.
It took a
downwind whiff
of a 
more than two
port-o-potty row
to shake those finger tips loose.

There is fruit in my bag.
I just arrived at the reservoir
with its weird skyline.

I remember some questionable snot nosed kiss happened here.
He was too old.
She was too sick.

Are we trees or are we leaves?
We are leaves.
We are sweet skinned old bikini women,
shoulder straps down,
shiny and hot.

If there's anything other than drinking a bit
and walking the length of the park
poetry phone in hand,
tell me it!

There's fruit and a bottle of champagne in my backpack and no
I'm not making sangria.

Get your 2k a day from
someone else's sugar water.
This is purely recreational.

No I am not one of those
buff work out guys
running shirtless and lubed
around the Onassis.

But I am a poet with
two beers and a bottle in my pack
three peaches and a couple manzanas.
Everything is coming up
apples
this tarot reading.

If a dollar did not destroy us,
who are we?
I could retire to a bungalow
with a record player in West Berkeley,
could tear my clothes off
and somersault up
Central Park West.
But today: not.

Today I use the feet:
one then the other
and the thumbs:
tip-tap tip-tap.
My feet make the trudge sound.
Thumbs are making letters.
These letters
which by the way You
are writing
by reading them
and I am reading by
writing them,
and now You
can choose to stop.
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1451019 2019-09-04T19:13:34Z 2019-09-06T11:05:48Z Burning Man, Climate Change and Priceless Economics

(0) Preamble

I didn’t go to Burning Man this year. One reason is that I’m in the East Coast, feeling concerned about the health of our planet. I also wanted to use this week to write; to finish this piece just it in time for those coming back from the playa* to read as they dust off their existences and open up the screens of the default world*. This article is my way of participating in Burning Man 2019. 

The point of this piece is to explain why your burn matters in terms of the global climate situation. No, I’m not here to make you feel guilty for having one of the best weeks of your life. I’m here to discuss why it matters that you went, why it matters that you loved it, and to invite you on an intellectual journey to understand how your experience can contribute to the healing of Earth. 

Throughout this journey, I’ll appeal to your felt senses by depicting scenes and moments you may relate to, to show how Burning Man is not only a social experiment, but a portal into a future way of being. I’ll venture to explain why life according to the Ten Principles* can feel fuller than life in the default world, and how this is relevant to the Climate Crisis.

If you’ve never been to Burning Man or something like it, I’ll do my best to show you what these spacetimes feel like. I’m adding footnotes to any terminology that’s Burner-specific* with the goal that even my grandfather, when he reads this (which I know he will, thanks Granddaddy!) will understand the piece. Storytelling sections will be in italics, so if you are only interested in the philosophical meat you can skip them. 

Ultimately I want to highlight the unique gift you have been given in attending the Burn: the delicious felt experience of existing in an alternative society built on priceless economics. I do this to challenge each of us to imagine how we can start to bring that futuristic way of being into the present; to leverage this felt-sense in navigating towards a more sustainable future.


(1) In the Deepest Darkness, the Brightest Light

In the dead of the Nevada night, a truck rumbled down a small dirt road. It’s lonely headlamps illuminated the occasional shrub. Finally the truck rolled past the last little patch of grass, and the road began to flatten into a cracked powdery surface devoid of all life. 

Turning a corner, seemingly out of nowhere, thousands of red lights appeared in the distance. These were countless vehicles, lined up as far as the eye could see in the absolute middle of nowhere, hemmed in on every side by swirling dusty darkness.

The two young men in the truck waited eagerly for about eight hours as the line of vehicles crawled forward before arriving at a massive gate. A woman in a cowboy hat told them to get out and roll around on the chalky ground. “You’re not virgins anymore,” she said, hammering a large gong. They both looked as if they had jumped in a bag of flour. 

The truck rumbled on past the gate until a new light emerged — the entire horizon, glittering, flashing and sparkling in every imaginable neon color. The next moment they were within the city. Giant glowing insects rolled up along side the truck and revelers twisted flaming hula hoops as work crews hammered away, building art pieces that stretched towards the milky moon. It was a new world for the two young men — an entirely new flavor of experience. 

Over the next week they worked, built, played, danced, shared, cooked, and thrived, falling deeply in love with the priceless spacetime of the playa. 


(2) What We Feel is What We Know

Burning Man uses a set of rules called the Ten Principles. By collectively agreeing to live according to these principles for one week, participants create a spacetime in which priceless economics replace the money based socio-economic system of our default world. If you’ve fallen in love with Burning Man, not for its grand hedonic spectacles but simply for soul-filling sensation of working, playing, and surviving according to the Ten Principles, then you have understood the beauty of priceless economics. 

Many people will point out that the priceless environment on the playa is a fantasy. That is true in the sense that the material goods which make survival there possible are imported from the consumerist default world beyond the trash fence*. And yes, going to Burning Man does entail a hefty carbon cost, from the countless last minute Amazon Prime orders to the millions of mile-gallons it takes to shlep a city to the middle of a remote desert. While these activities are unsustainable and planet-warming, viewing the Burn as a sunk cost is defeatist and unhelpful. Rather we must view the expenditures as opening a portal into the future that we can learn from. 

Our current model of industrial capitalism is unsustainable, so it by definition cannot be the future. The future must feel different, it will be composed of a different flavor of spacetime. If we let it, the Burning Man experience can give us a taste of existing within a possible futuristic spacetime governed by priceless economics. 

To understand priceless economics, it’s helpful to examine the effects our existing model of currency based economics has on our way of life. While we feel the inefficiencies of the currency economy every day, we have become so used to these pains as to become numb. It is only when this oppressive paradigm dissolves in a spacetime like Burning Man that we have a point of reference with which to contrast our currency-based existence. 

While the economics that prevail within Burning Man are indeed a type of fantasy, our use of currency in the default world enables a fantasy that is harder to recognize and therefore far more dangerous. This is the illusion is that we are paying the full price for the goods we purchase. In fact, the price we pay only covers the capital costs of a good. It ignores the time/effort (human cost) and global temperature impact (ecosystemic cost) that went into producing the good. 

A currency that ignores the human costs of a good is structurally guaranteed to degrade humanity and create inequality. A currency that ignores the ecosystemic costs of a good is structurally guaranteed to degrade the Earth and increase the global temperature. 

Today’s global economic system accepts these compromises so that we might pay a “cheaper” price for goods, adding fluidity to commerce while unwittingly opting us into social and ecological debt with every purchase we make. 


(3) Immediacy of Work

It’s not just goods that are devalued by our use of money in capitalist economics, but also our work. We are not the beneficiaries of our work. We work for someone else, for something else, and this work is only “for us” in the sense that we are given some money in exchange for doing it. Furthermore, our work generally is not seen and valued directly by those in our community.

In this way, money contributes to a story of separation, facilitating detachment between workers, their community, and the products of their labor. The consumer of the work is also not as able to appreciate the labor because the money price they paid for it acts as a buffer to appreciation of the human effort that went into the work. The result of this inefficiency is that many in our society become depressed and feel unseen, in part because their money-based work is isolating and unappreciated. 

Money also facilitates the ability of external interests to become involved in and profit from local financial transactions through lending, investment, and trading. At every step of the economic system where currency is involved, the end result is that value is hijacked from the local level by large corporations and the global financial system, leaving less of the value of goods and labor within the dense local networks where they were created. 

Of course working for money has downsides, but what is the viable alternative? It seems like a paradox that to work without being paid could be more rewarding, but those who experience priceless labor immediately recognize it as so. In a context like Burning Man we feel magnetically drawn towards work. The fundamental human need to be helpful and appreciated are the only motivation we need to roll up our sleeves. While Burning Man nearly guarantees we’ll have this felt revelation, a trip to the playa is by no means necessary to experience the feeling of priceless work. Other examples can be seen in the operation of certain temples, organ exchange networks, Vipassana retreats, platforms (ie: Wikipedia), civil movements and volunteer-run organizations. In all of these cases, a set of social agreements in a buffered context create functional local economies.


(4) Just Came for Build

Build week* of 2015 was one long battle against high winds and furious dust storms. Rae came out for that week to help build her camp’s infrastructure. She spent her first two days helping her camp erect a large finicky dome structure. 

On the third day the winds were particularly fierce. She describes a moment when the entire structure began to bow under immense pressure. It was on the verge of collapse when suddenly a man from a nearby camp appeared through the dust with a knife. He began slashing holes in the canvas walls of the structure, cutting certain lines, allowing the wind to flow through and easing the tension on the structure.

In the end their dome stood, thanks to this random act of engineering by someone none of them knew.

Rae describes these few days as having been her most meaningful Burning Man moments: simply living in the extreme conditions of the playa, building, working, and collaborating. 


(5) Money is Hot

We’ve seen that a priceless system like the one at Burning Man can lead to greater fulfillment through more immediate realization of the value of goods and labor. It’s a beautiful experiment, but why does it matter?

Our global capitalist economic system is destroying the Earth. Take for example, the current situation in the Amazon, where recent forest fires have garnered international attention. From the perspective of the cattle ranchers who are starting these fires, the land is more lucrative when it is not covered in jungle. They can use the cleared land to raise animals and grow crops that will allow them to better provide for their families. Their forest-burning may appear violent, but they are no more responsible than we would be in making the decision to take a job that requires frequent cross-country flights. The rancher’s participation in a globalized system in which holding currency is the only means of security, stability, and utility all but guarantees that sooner or later, they will make the decision to turn forestlands into farmlands, to degrade native ecosystems and replace them with economically productive agricultural  space.

There might be ways to reconfigure capitalism so that it heats the Earth less: drawing energy from renewable sources or taxing carbon emissions. While these changes are critical, and can slow the process of global warming, they cannot bring us to a place of truly healing the Earth. The incentives of the money system are fundamentally misaligned with that goal. Because of this, if we are serious about course correcting, we must explore entirely different ways of being such as those offered by priceless economics. 

Finally, we might ask, while we can see how the money system is structured to degrade Earth, how can priceless economics perform better? In a priceless system creating and consuming value locally is highly incentivized, requiring less transport costs. Less physical goods are available to consume and more emphasis is placed on self expression and even work itself to generate joy and meaning in life. Because there’s no incentive to overproduce in order to accumulate money, a priceless economy encourages the production of only what is needed.

Ultimately moving to a priceless economy means embracing a simpler way of life, but it does so in a way that can theoretically improve our felt quality of life. It aligns a healing of what is sick in our society with a healing of the Earth we inhabit.

While a better life with less material comforts may seem unthinkable to many, those who have experienced Burning Man or other priceless economic spacetimes know it is possible. That is why we must become leaders in navigating humanity towards sustainability. This is why it matters that you went. This is why it matters that you loved it. 


(6) Bringing the Future Now

I got to Prospect Park in Brooklyn around 6pm on Saturday. Near the entrance I found a group of my friends clustered up having a picnic. As the sun set we were about to head to dinner when someone in our group proposed, “Should we go to the Burn?” Prospect Burn was happening somewhere deeper in the park, timed to coincide with the night of man burn* that was happening thousands of miles away from us in Nevada.

Not exactly sure what to expect, everyone agreed to check out the Burn before dinner. As soon as we agreed to go to the Burn the feeling in our group began to change. We started walking into the woods and darkness enclosed us. We walked down the path shining our cell phone lights and dancing as we bumped music from a portable speaker. After about a mile of dark urban wilderness, we saw a little cluster of lights in the distance. 

The first thing that struck us about Prospect Burn was its tiny size – just a few dozen people clustered around in a park. But there were some large piece of art, and people wearing glowing lights. I immediately felt a sense of having entered a new flavor of spacetime. I was quickly split off from my friends, helping a man named “Party Bear” deconstruct a pop up shade canopy. 

All around us people were practicing decommodification, gifting, immediacy. For many of my picnic friends this was the first time they had experienced any kind of Burn. Wandering around the tiny but secluded area of the park, striking up conversations with strangers and participating in collective art experiences, I forgot for a moment that I was not in Black Rock City. 



Acknowledgements: 

I want to thank Vienna Looi for her enlightened conceptions of priceless economics, which formed the primary inspiration for this piece. I also want to mention that I recently read “Climate: A New Story” by Charles Eisenstein and that book was also relevant to my thinking in creating this. 


Glossary:

The Burn - Another word for Burning Man.

Playa - The playa is the name used to describe the area of Black Rock Desert where Burning Man takes place.

Default World - Burners use the term default world to refer to the regular world outside of Burning Man. 

Burners - Attendees of Burning Man.

Trash Fence - This is a large plastic fence that wraps around the entire Burning Man event for purposes of keeping trash from blowing away into the playa. Everything within the trash fence is Burning Man.

Build Week - The week before Burning Man officially opens its gates to attendees, many Burners are already on the playa helping to build the infrastructure that will make the event possible.

Man Burn - The large event on Saturday night of the Burn in which the eponymous Man is actually burned. 



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tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1449680 2019-08-29T11:01:44Z 2019-08-29T11:01:44Z can we call this a poem? I can tell you are hurting and I am sorry, I know that this situation is stressful and worrying. I can also see 
how seeing my posts would be 
concerning if it felt to you 
like I was bum rocket ski hi dive financial 
Mercury pluot garment reduction 
elephunk Mesmer hot garbage campaign 
linked fire twat 
was unprotected 
no cleft nudge handiman absolute capital frank cheese emblem 
creative matchstick uncanny looking glass defrillbulator hostel comet 
slinging after "I don't know, I don't know. I don't know, I don't know." 
He got evacuated.
The island went silent.
A woman hung from ropes 
illuminated by the round red 
siren light of a coast guard ship.
Tangible metrics: nobody died,
caught or contracted aid's virus,
lost another chunk of sanity,
fell in love.

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tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1449529 2019-08-28T15:21:53Z 2019-08-28T16:32:16Z that moment when in the middle of writing, drowsiness strikes, the head droops, and the pen keeps moving

What also occurs in this space of moneyless relative scarcity, where basic needs are met, but luxuries are unlikely and can’t be purchased, is that we begin to prance around openly swaggling our poonzi-kooks
nothing more than a bunch of grieving nooziclerks 
or else a grammut of petulant mulberry thivs. 
Twirling our juggy buttumps loose wit old hamsmear kajingus, 
the funk within, without the place was muggy and damp, 
not doing his school work. 
fragments and pieces 
of it here and there. 
grim child clutching the hell and handle out a judas wrench - pencil, 
the perfect maelstrom contengecy 
in my arch and lardint cool respunktive geranium ass worldview, 
dusk in the Dorset highlands,
mammal calamity, 
hung punks heaving into lucky-loo’s, 
devil swiff, devil sniff, 
CHI FAN at the devil’s ZHUOZI, 
comming back to the red penicil, 
he was waiting there, waiting in a window for me, a young son, the protagonist of my film, rocking his torso in half sleep, as though caressed by some underworld god. 

The poem I want to write is bigger than your head: and round. 
Maybe inscribed inner ring of the hula hoop, cylindrical infinity hazard. 
Oops we put the “O” in hoola hoop. 
Oops we activated the ungsteen blooper infinity problem. 
Right now your eyes stay closed, ok, dear finger?  

I had my squirming oily parameters DOS’ed. 
Finger in the Amazon. 
No he wasn’t. 
No he wasn’t the man we who though was he or n’t. 
So yeah. Plam B is food, gone a little “ham ways”. 
Holy cow. 
we ate, 
the holy, holy cow. 
Holy cow, we what meat we ate. 
The Holy Cow. 
Yes We Did. 

So this is my dumn boem, and it isn’t “about anything”
it’s a rumbling rant through the pillin’ hilltops of everglade glen canyon.
Sweet me! 

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tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1448190 2019-08-24T21:11:26Z 2019-09-05T03:40:45Z fun for the love of:
the good old fun of luck, 
the love of fun, 
the life of fun, 
the good old brand of fun, 
the happy fun, 
the funnest of fun times, 
the fun you want to have, 
or the fun fun fun for everyone that fun never left behind!
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1441155 2019-08-04T19:38:07Z 2019-09-05T03:51:05Z On "Climate: A New Story"

In the past few months I have been trying to ask myself, “what truly motivates you?” and “what cause would you be willing to make major sacrifices for?” One compelling answer for me is the beauty of the natural world.

Human activities are overwhelmingly pushing the planet in a direction where that natural beauty is being destroyed. As a human I am participating in that destruction. This does not feel ok to me. I feel motivated to take action that makes me healing force for the natural world. I would be willing to make sacrifices for this. 

But how? In such a large, complicated world, how can one orient themselves and their actions in such a way as to know, as best as possible, that what they are doing does in fact have a positive impact? 

In my quest to answer these questions I picked up the book “Climate: A New Story” by Charles Eisenstein, which was recommended to me by a friend. 

Eisenstein’s book offers, as the title suggests, a “new story” on the situation of ecological destruction and climate change. I found his perspective very motivating, and I’ll spend most of this piece summarizing or reflecting on points he made in the book.

Before I discuss the “new story” however, I’d like to mention the current story from which Eisenstein seeks to draw a contrast. A simplified version is this: Industrial humanity has an addiction to energy. In our quest for energy, we do things (such as burning fossil fuels) that release carbon into the atmosphere. This causes the planet to get hotter, which creates a vicious cycle of increasing heat. At the higher temperatures, forests dry up, sea levels rise, ecosystems fail, and increasingly, survival becomes difficult for humans, too. 

This story reduces the problem of an unhealthy planet into a single number that allows us to feel like we can quantify, offset, and eventually control the quality of the environment. The simplification is useful in that it allows all of us to pull together at a time of extreme urgency around global warming. By some estimates there may be only 2-3 years before an inflection point in warming makes it essentially impossible to come back to today's temperature baseline. 

Indeed, many have signed on to this story and are doing what they can to reduce atmospheric carbon and cool the planet. Yet there are many others for whom this current narrative has yet to convince them to change course. There are many reasons for this. It could be that they feel alienated by the divisive politics that surround climate change, that they are too overwhelmed by the scope of the problem to feel like any one human's actions can have an impact, or simply that they feel it is already too late.

I never want to think of Earth as a lost cause. Even if we do reach a point where cooling to pre-industrial levels is all but impossible, there will always be something that we can do as individuals to improve the quality of the ecosystems that surround us. As such, while our current narrative offers a clear short term directive to address climate, I find myself wondering if there is another approach which could offer a framework for meaningful action in a future where the global temperature situation may feel hopelessly out of control.

To begin with, Eisenstein questions whether the current carbon-centric narrative for climate action has us rowing in the right direction at all. Consider the following thought experiment, in which Eisenstein hopes to show why optimizing for carbon or temperature reduction alone may not be our best foot forward as environmentalists:

Imagine a future in which technology continues to improve, and as it does, we are able to apply a technology solution to every process that is contributing to climate change. We build a spread floating nano-cells that harvest energy while making the atmosphere more reflective, embrace lab grown meats, and create giant filters that suck the carbon out of the atmosphere. As a result, we solve the climate crisis in that Earth’s temperature normalizes and we can go on with business as usual. 

The world I described above could be one in which every single tree has been replaced with a more efficient CO2 to O2 conversion device; where no inch of grassland is left uncovered by solar panels; where the only extant animal species are humans, dogs, and brainless lab-chickens. While these extremes feel unlikely, this example pointed out for me that our current model for healing the environment isn’t structurally guaranteed to do so.

So what is the alternative? Eisenstein suggests that to find that answer, we might go back to what originally motivated us to care in the first place. For me, it’s a love of forests. I grew up in the Oakland Hills, surrounded by majestic live oaks and towering pines. Now, 20 years after I first moved to the region, the changes are noticeable. The hills are drier, there are less insects, the salamanders have gone, and many of the live oaks that give the city its name are dead and brown, including two in my backyard.

I loved those trees, I cried when I realized they were dying. I felt an almost irrational zeal when I considered what I’d be willing to do, what I’d be willing to sacrifice, to save just those two trees. 

In Eisenstein’s new story, we are invited to partake in ecological healing at the level where it evokes the strongest feelings for us. Rather than looking at the dying oaks behind my house and thinking “the oaks are dying because of global climate change, I’ll make a donation to carbon offsets in their honor” and moving on, I’m asked to actually go into the forest, to look at the dying trees, to feel the earth, to ask what that particular patch of nature wants, and to take action to make a positive change.

While these may seem like small actions, they teach a skill that I, and other humans, need to learn if we want to begin to heal the Earth. To understand the land around us, to care for it, and to help it recover on a local level. 

Eisenstein cites impressive examples of regenerative agriculture - farms that have found ways not only to maintain but increase yields per acre while simultaneously restoring the beauty and balance to the local ecosystem and sequestering carbon in rebuilt topsoil deposits. Among these are Brown’s Ranch in North Dakota and Ernst Gotsch’s farm in Brazil. 

It’s possible to work the land in a way that is productive for human consumption needs and healing to the Earth, but there is a caveat: this type of farming requires many more human labor hours than conventional industrial farming. In order for this to work, a much larger segment of the population would need to live and work on the land. As Eisenstein puts it: “figuratively and literally, we need to go back to the land.” 

This would be a massive restructure of our society. Eisenstein gives examples of changes in policy and our monetary system that could incentivize and enable it, such as negative interest and UBI. Viewing the climate crisis as an inevitable symptom of broken socioeconomic structure, he acknowledges “the necessity of that change reaching to the level of money.” 

Making these changes would allow more humans to assume roles as boots-on-the-ground stewards of Earth’s ecosystems. As challenging as it might seem to achieve, this is a destination for the future role of humans on the Earth that I feel good about orienting myself towards. On a personal level, the next steps towards that destination feel clear. Understanding this perspective allowed me to shift my thinking from “humans are bad: the Earth would be better without us” to “humans can be good:  Earth now needs our acts to heal and thrive.”

In conclusion, I came away from my reading of Eisenstein’s book feeling newly humbled to the challenges facing our planet, and how inappropriately oriented our society is to address them. I also felt inspired about the possibilities of what we can do and be as Earth-loving humans. While I still feel that resolving carbon-related warming needs to be the primary compass directing near term action, Climate made me feel motivated to address environmental issues closest to home for me, to the level of simply maintaining my own garden or the woods around my house. If I want to take a step beyond that, I’m excited by the idea of practicing and promoting regenerative agriculture, with the hope that human by human, acre by acre, we have the potential to heal the Earth from the ground up. 



]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1436271 2019-07-23T06:38:17Z 2019-07-23T06:38:17Z crowd poems vol 2
these
are the second round
of poems 
inspired by prompts
from friends
on facebook

        my eyes have only seen the surface, jan

knowing life
from outside in
never knowing what’s within
what is within?
peeling back the bark and branches
dissecting the leaves
leaves still
another
deeper
cell
always wrapped by something else
some thing we can see
which is us
the surface even 
is invisible.
i have only ever seen me
peeking under the rock
of my own 
consciousness

        nothing makes sense if we don’t know who we are, don

earlier that night
i stared deep into the eyes
of a man in my dreams
and felt electricity
all around me
he said,
“if you keep coming here,
in ten years, then,
i can tell you who i am”
when i woke up
someone was staring back at me
in the bathroom mirror,
i think he was that
guy from earlier

        deja vu, elijah

the familiarity of this place
is almost nauseating
was i here in a dream?
or is this the dream
where i was here in it?
i guess it is kind of a dive bar
all on it’s own residential
block up north side of town
almost feel stuck
here like some version 
of myself
has just been here all along
and always will be

        what is the future, stephanie

the future
is the seed
at the end of the tunnel
from it, roots sprout backward
into time
becoming every dreamy moment
we currently call now

        staying at too nice of a hotel, and realizing,
        to your dismay, that in fact you DO enjoy nice things, roman

i had to leave the hostel
one day after checking in
i'm not young anymore
i like nice shit
i'm going to be broke
no matter how much money i make

a hostel seemed like a great idea
one night of cacophonous snoring later
i spent the entire day
scouring amsterdam for a private room

        starting a fund, dave

all eggs 
one basket
always felt brittle:
let's crack 
the big yolk
and let 
it trickle 
out through 
the shower head.

        needy kittens, fang

i do not
know
about the needs
of kittens
but i cat sat
momma cat
and boy
could
she
eat

        being in your own bed for the first time after a long trip, lisa

the road has been long
my head slept
on the
side of bus windows
airport benches.
i caught a few hours
at hotels
where i wasn’t sure about 
the sheets.
out of the taxi
and into my bed
i hear the first
raindrops
pattering me
into half sleep
half bliss.

        daydreaming becomes real, lihui

millisecond
head droop
mind image
sensation
waking up
waking
another reality
this one
built up from dream bricks
each a sleepy 
day doze
flash
bricks gel
concrete
crenelated tower

        manatees, zi

plorbous bodies
drifting under mud sea
a mangrove cow
we mourn
a world getting too cruel
and hot 
for such a peaceable
plump
sea grazer as you

        a man’s poetic retelling of the woman’s ovarian cycle, sakura

uncertain dry tentative
a squeeze
comfy understanding
we can but don’t have to

things seem stable
new moon flips to wax
a tingling
a warmth

passionate advances
old wounds 
delicate tantrum
ecstatic release

drawn water pulls red
tension breaks 
into pain and relief
there’s no baby

        letting go but not wanting to, carla

quivering hand hold
wet smile
what we saw was one moon
and its antechambers
the difference
between yours and you’re
love we can look in the eyes
those grinning tears
are the hardest
to wipe away
stay for a couple 
more cry laughs
eat these
cookies with
me
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1431158 2019-07-11T01:09:20Z 2019-07-23T06:38:34Z crowd poems vol 1
i asked for prompts
from friends
on facebook
(thank you)
they are
the italics
rest is
the poem

        picture of a temple on a jungle hill, jeremy

looking up through
jungle brush
a temple is painted
on a rock that pierces
bright clouds
    
i carried my orange banner
many miles
to ascend the hill
and place my flag 
among the works of
the great romantics:
blake, nabokov, plath
    
standing at the foot
of god’s pagoda
it feels it may vanish
if i take even one step closer
a mirage
a photograph
a dream

        letter to the weather on a hot day, stephanie

you give a soggy grey glow
and i sit in the greenhouse
you had me sticky in bed this
morning, my feet eager for
the cold shower water 
finally drenching a reluctant spine
you sucked my will to achieve
but neither could i mourn
sunk in the hazy doldrums of your
wet heat

        talking to a stranger outside a restaurant, jenny
 
i was going to
trudge back into drizzly swelter
(the host said “one hour”)
when I saw you.
something about
the angle of your phone said
“available”
you came from the same state as me
our brothers competed in soccer
    
“seven people died climbing everest this year”
you mention.
    
i look down, holding an orange flag
i see the detail of the fabric, not orange at all
but thin red stitches over golden yellow silk.
the table is ready

        feeling of leaving a place you’ll never come back to, tammy
 
wet eyes scan the horizon
a smile on my lips
life isn’t long enough
to rebuild 
your wonders
or short enough for me
to stay here forever
so i fall to my knees
gathering two tight clenched fistfuls
of your dusty soil
letting wind catch the particles
slips from grasp

        recover or reconstruct familiarity, elizabeth
    
a peppery flavor to the 
splash of crimson in your 
gold nasturtium
feels familiar.
given even the purest water
that bouquet will wither.
just down the path there is
an emerald hillside
where spicy flowers grow.
these are new flowers
with the same name.

        growing up, mo

remember when we were kids living on the north side?
things were complicated back then
but now things are simple
but now we’re told they have to be.
i used to wander in the hills of Oakland
listening to deltron
on a panasonic portable CD player
two double A batteries
lost somewhere in the 
electrocrackle of a hot vintage porn
swarming with dream life
spirits and hallucinations.
trees don’t get me as high any more
but i’ll
still go half on sack with you,
dusting off my purple motive.
do we have to settle down?
i want us to settle up.
to put the same orange flowers
on that one ikea table
every day to
make it new.

        shopping at Costco, vikram

is this being grown up?
when i push the cart aisle to aisle
drive it like it's stolen
because we’re gonna expense this:
brownie bites
coconut oil, olive oil,
twenty dozen eggs,
spices, cereals, earplugs,
jam.
there’s a proud
snap-worthy moment
when we pull up to the register,
cart filled past capacity
the man at the door signs off on our load
and we start wheeling it
towards the landfill
a couple of ants.

        a golden retriever named Theo, summer
 
bleached targaryen mane
you were the star at graduation
the falcor in my 
neverending insta story
what made me happy were
your pouty eyes
your triumphant shlump back into the dog
bed home from a walk
for those three days before
my date
you were the perfect digital wingman
if i walked you, you’d be grateful
but if not it would be chill too

]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1429543 2019-07-09T15:12:44Z 2019-07-10T03:42:13Z stroognoot (strange night)
wibbled we
plump meanders neathwords
sweet squeeze one night 
orbed we oleander
skin grip
wet spot
stucky touch we 
skirfed out nerth words
zung zunging no fooded, needs eat
living behind quince cottage
anta sum grimmudge loose alley
bad slumping dust brick all car theft
risky mistreat solked homes
out back half sunk
haunt mansion
hewmed we
hot sweat sticky bug day night
swat skeeters
strubbling out to see sky flames
star snuffs
big dipper
we can’t find orion cause stars don’t align
for us they do
depending how you define: line
drawn
tea house from bad korean
two brainhearts sqweetched among wobb hovel
viving or loving
sky spike upta ood fern filled farmyard
here, to snive
all along the llamas
out buskirk sweet biggy boot trot we
swat cute bumple bee bum danger
squat, press to get to
that bed clutch hell tight
sweet gribbin
a future gelling
did the flood came then
washing away tissue tissue tissue tissue
in snibbly nose dab
holding tight what’s letting go
your proposal
let’s wake up as ...

we woke up surrounded by chirruping chickens
squak jawed peacock
the inflatable turkey’s rhythmic plompf
levee eyes parting the muddy scuttle
of gradient guinea hens

we wake up smiling on the speckless white
floor rug of your fidi apartment
there’s a backpack
and a lego man
door closes
elevator opens

... frends
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1425713 2019-06-29T03:16:36Z 2019-06-29T03:27:32Z setting sail
in the middle of the night sunday
i wake up and turn in
bed to hold you

only
it’s just a pillow
and i am alone

that morning my heart
throbbing
a kissy face emoji goes out
our first red heart

it is the conversation 
we can’t get enough of
sweet eye meets
gizzard grins
the touch

that morning my heart
sent a kissy face emoji
blew our first red heart

monday morning
no work on my mind
and instead i write you a purple poem
slide it in a bottle
and push it down the river Styx
for you to gather on
at the battery docks on
Manna-hata’s tip

you uncork that sunset’s sour vintage
where the taste is not
what the wine is not
what the sweet translucent flesh of grapes
had dripped - stickying our fingers
at day’s demise

for one day you did not reply

in bed i hear the whine of the mosquito
i know it will be a long night
still you have not replied
my phone buzzes
an associate, a friend

she bit me on the shoulder
she bit me on the face

that morning i wake up late
from a bunk bed dream
where the bay waters
had risen
and you can’t see the city from Oakland anymore

the mosquito is trapped:
buzzing around in a cup
with a cloth over it
beside my bed
and a butt full of my blood

i take her outside
on the fire escape
lift the cloth
and watch her 
erratic flight among brick and iron

...


later, you reply
it seems callous to me
three heart emojis
none of them red
and a chesnut

but as my tears clear
I see the fire peach and navy
the purple
and the olive pit
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1421170 2019-06-17T18:03:21Z 2019-06-17T18:05:02Z back from the void
we enjoy a purple embrace
sun falls into hoboken
exploding silently
slow oranges
rippling against the hudson
an endless breathing dance
of fire peach and navy
fills our head kiss
summer eyes.
the olive pit you toss in the water
is the sand pattern slipping
through your fingers.
it sinks to
the seafloor
one dark seed under the hudson
joins ten million other human sins.
hellish fractal infinities
once danced on your palm in
these specks of sea-dust
blown from a distant star.
    
I will take you to
the purple planet
whose ocean island
laps at the banks of
your dream beach
where every grain of sand
was born between your hourglass fingers
and lychees dangle 
from the low grove.
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1417095 2019-06-06T12:09:43Z 2019-06-06T12:09:43Z hallucination she texts furiously
curl to the tip of her nose
face in profile
brown straight hair
black romper
seated on a hotel
lobby bench
rolly bag with the handle up
cardigan draped 
around the top
rings, long manicure
she looks
exasperated
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1416713 2019-06-05T13:21:54Z 2019-06-05T13:21:54Z perl H buck (as in jesus H. christ)
straight off a false awakening
in my childhood bedroom
trying to get the lights on
I'm
the lights won't go on
flipping switch
out
want the lights on.

I am in the drop.
the drop happens after
a sinewy Kubrick sequence.
watching the Kubrick sequence
with Perl
one of two women
the other climbs in
nice when it was just perle

it is a person putting on a glove
while sinewy violins almost
nearly unbearable screech
proud: I know who this is
this is Kubrick

when the scene ends
the bottom falls out
falling
dark
falling
until the moment
the ego rea
(is realized)

"oh, I do still exist"

pieces start to
consciousness
a self, a scene
I don't know is Perl still here?
still feel her presence
in the backseat of a taxi
needle and thread
still stitching that glove finger as
silk tailored
pale pink gloss
slips on as
about to "the electric chair"
a criminal
the bottom falls out
the b
                o


      t 


                        t



 
          o 





                                    m




awake full mast sails          needing to write
plump with darkness.        dreading the void.


]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1416365 2019-06-04T15:27:20Z 2019-06-04T15:27:20Z denver Denver is haunted there,
thin air thick with spirits
blink of sleep joins
you the dead fiesta,
these horny ghosts
pass one another in 
useless wispy rapture
moaning
in the airport
scampering amid
redeye flier's dreams
passed out back hall
splotchy carpet
under the wild red gaze
of the throbbing blue stallion,
or frozen in the crosswalks
of Aurora they appear
in the weary driver's 
blink of sleep:
a mother and child
stepping out in the street.

Denver is haunted there
ghosts eddying in the
alpine mist.
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1416006 2019-06-03T15:07:30Z 2019-06-04T15:23:30Z poems when i was twenty nine
i learned i could go out at night
and bring home poems
instead of women:
at the street corner
where giggling groups pass,
in the residue between
the bricks,
taxi wheels as
grind to a halt,
weird fizz you can't get 
bottom of a strong porter
glass
stuck to the side,
slouched over a bar
head thump
bench seat
feet hang off the curb
strong porter
when i was twenty nine

and bring home poems
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1414541 2019-05-29T22:03:57Z 2019-06-05T13:36:52Z El Cortez walking around this weird neighborhood
is it dawn or twilight
the hours don’t match up
an orb in the sky could be
a pin prick sun
or just a globe streetlamp
all blueish black above 
a crackle of orange through
the mist on the horizon.

the bulwark of your mechanics 
hedge-pledge comes 
tumbling out of your uber driver's knife carrot harem pocket, 
the old fancy way. 

5/6/19
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1413769 2019-05-27T18:41:18Z 2019-05-27T18:42:45Z across the thames

“You want to eat you go to Chicken Cottage”

The man outside barks. It’s cash only, and an attempt is made to beg Brits for a couple pounds.

Luckily there's another, quieter Chicken Cottage, with nobody in it, and this one accepts cards. The fries taste like old grease. The nuggets are the nuggest - held delicately between thumb and fore. 

“Let’s find somewhere we can sit outside and eat this.”

The park entrance is at the dead end of a lane in South London. 

Tip the water bottle for a swig, pinky stuck in the air.

“We’re in London.”

A smile.

“Can I put my arm around you?”

The flat smells like moth balls. The second thing is the furniture - tasteful and warm. A large window covered by thick venetian slats. Beside it, the olive green chair: a curved danish number, elegant in its size, and with four polished wooden legs in a splay. It is overhung by a two-orb cantilever lamp in rosy metallic.

The ceiling fixture is an open ended cylinder: aurburn in extérieur, reflective copper within. A single Edison bulb within emits a scientific orange glow.

Four eyes examine the dresser - rich wood bisected artistically by veins of inlayed brass, whose thoughtful arrangement is uninterrupted by the breaks between drawers. 

The bedspread is a warm white decorated lightly by black embroidery - a band of lace forming a square that speaks of nuzzley sweet interiority. 

Two cross-legged people face one another. 

“What would that look like?”

A smile.

“That would be nice.”



A morning glance between the venetians affords vistas of lush spring foliage and a futuristic peek of London’s iconic “Shard” as cobalt surrenders to dayblue.

]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1402097 2019-04-26T03:05:14Z 2019-04-26T16:52:09Z I Love Mi Mi is a woman in my dream.
she has a rainbow
face
a small nose
and an electric smile.

I meet Mi
through a mutual friend
    who is also cute
but Mi glows
uncontainable.

she’s talking to a woman
with green eyes
behind the bar.

this café is so
typewriter: 
young.

the green eyed woman,
olive skinned,
dark gold curls
pulled back,
looks at me.

she tells Mi
“he is cute.”
and they giggle.

when Mi comes back
to my side of the bar
it is to speak to
another guy
who also likes Mi:
everyone likes Mi.

Mi has a rainbow face
a small nose
and an electric smile.

the other guy
starts to ask Mi
“do you want to leave together?”
I catch her eyes
as he asks
and interject.

“Mi, how about, if
instead of that,
we go hang out.”

she says ok,
meet at her place.

the other guy is mad
in fact he curses Mi
he calls her
“a woman who
meets men at bars.”

I tell him not to talk
that way about Mi
and show
him my sword:
long and sharp,
it remains in its black sheath.

he quickly draws his
serrated blade
pressing it
into my flesh.

I will not do battle.
I take the pain,
blood dripping
down.

I set out to find Mi.

on the muddy path
to her house
there is a pyramid.
I stop
suddenly
realizing what great
works I must build.

when I finally arrive
it is on horseback
and
Mi is behind
the desk in my
grandfather’s study.

I open my shirt to 
show her
the wound.

Mi stands.
she is bouyant
she greets me 
with kaleidoscope sweetness,
a megawatt grin.
exactly the way
I want her.

a friend says
“you need to
find someone who
    is a nurse
someone who will 
    say 
‘oh my god, what
    happened.’
when they see the blood.”

that was
the last time I saw Mi:
standing behind 
the desk
rainbow faced,
small nosed,
electric.
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1400482 2019-04-21T21:15:53Z 2019-06-04T13:46:44Z Ausphur under
shaded sunny dapple
outskirt eco-home
wife is accomplished
clever
magical
brown locks
she stands magnificent
next to the blood orange tree
we planted
a baby
and named him Ausphur
after his father’s mad
poeticism 
and momma’s 
good luck.

when Fiona’s
big twinkle meets my ogle 
it is to ask
“do you think this is bad?”
gesturing to a
patch of discoloration
on the shrubby 
citrus trunk.

kitchen fixtures 
achieve an earthy stainless appeal
interior featured in “Home”
published in house
on our
maxMac 2i
ethnic decor
punctuating rich hardwood walls:
masks and fabrics are portals
to times we roamed
ourselves weary
now
finally we can
recline 
into the danish
needle on a vinyl electro-chill
ripe avocado
heirloom tomatoes
a piece of sustainable trout
home filling with
warm light + auto-chef aroma
as
our purple sky front vista
navies down to night.

Ausphur is building
unbuilding and
rebuilding his legos in the guest yurt
saving his screen time
for 8pm
his friends will log on
and Fiona and I will
hold hands
lock eyes
across the
reclaim cherry

and

Fiona fills her diaphragm,
corner smiling at
my helpless love-look
“so..” 
she tries to start
desperate eyes
and
that half smile,
my pause palm
moves to her clavicle
“It’s ok Fiona, I know.”
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1393413 2019-04-03T20:15:31Z 2019-04-03T20:15:31Z i long for america for strange bi-ways
birds nesting in an old cracked
flourescent sign
diners open late
diners open early
career ending portions
gravy flooded eggy biscuits

i long for
hours to our one downloaded playlist
german shepherd hanging out the window
of a passing truck
must be going one hundred

motels we almost don’t want to sleep in
the best sleep as morning splits the venetians 
tents on a desert campsite

magenta flame lit dusky mountain
rancid odors in an odd alley

turning the corner to glimmrin’ metropolis
turning the corner
seeing endless blue shimmer
endless grey rumble

a cigarette by the wind whipped corn tops
hot muggy take your shirt off
buggy skeeters 
and 

snow blown cottages 
from a long time ago
candle in every window

your creaky dawn-voice
“can we sleep for another hour?”

dew on the car outside.
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1388067 2019-03-20T20:51:00Z 2019-03-21T18:57:42Z Down the Middle - YC W19 Demo Day Poem
a.k.a "it's the juggernaut batch"
03.17.19 - pier 48 loading dock
San Francisco, CA

dreamers
		and shmoozers
	throw hopes
				in the din
					
	murmurs bounce off
				warehouse walls

long 		gone	are
	the comforts of mountainview
		the carpeted floors of
the computer history museum
			
		here the ground is parking lot
			yellow badge founders swimming like
	sharks ready to bite any 
			dazed distance-staring alum
			
			thick black curtains stretch to the roof pick a side
		two hundred is too many companies to not divide
	what once was YCombined now is YSplit
and that’s also a new card type: virtual debit.
it’s the juggernaut [redacted] like Freddie Merc’s Indian roots
life’s worse when you can’t get crazy rich south asian news.
ice rain from the heavens - not Kevin, this hail
weather check insures sleet wrecks should your coverage fail.
but there’s no insurance when a hire is a blight
burn the bull off resumes with a white hot searchlight.
a generous lover, I don’t quite go greek -
a cutie in thick rims, though? yes, I’ll eatgeek.
pronto is LATAM’s firey Uber with half-a-million rides;
investors - ¡ven rapidamente! make strides!
allure puts garment mocks on models of each size and type
I know from Teespring that’s a cash cow: right swipe.
Vivian of friendshop’s pink coralogo tee pops
to get better deals and go viral bring crew when you cop.
keep your error prone analytics code deploys on lock
they call themselves avo but will they make guac?
small business purchase is great but if that’s where it ends
wonder could we have shared more words… with friends?
union apartment making $300k MRR rentals look easy
with swag on the stage in printed black sweat suits and Yeezy’s.
alpaca is API Robinhood - darning their stocks in the night
when there’s nobody there… 
cute birdy mascot makes me wanna nuzzle and nestle
that’s as close to the truth as I can get with trestle.
a founder forgets his lines but it cause of a chronic habit?
every month shipping $2MM in dank green is nabis.
‘fraud is a way of life’ it’s both true and sad
truora works to make the outcomes a little less bad.
egg
			egg
	egg    hatch				egg
					egg			egg
	egg

egg
come on poet. Focus! like Lincoln reading by candle
you’ll never find love if you keep losing your handle.
so here’s co-founder Joe out of Gordian - for any of you in denial,
their booking-soft underlies travel sites. I’ll take the aisle.
tuck-shirt young-dicaprio brooklyn-swag-walk
promises board are ‘biggest baddest cash buyers on the block.’ !
and finally tech to bring grub straight to your habitat
got spice like Kim Chi B, where’s my cabbage at?

in the break-space a couple burritos go down
thank you
 thank you for the food
	let it not put me to sleep
		keep

keep your baby safe
keey pour baby 
        baby safe
keep you or baby	
	 your baby 
			  safe

shiok meats will shock with lab grown cell based shrimps
in a $25 Billion prawn market this game ain’t for wimps.
a friend from my Robotics class at Brown - Francois
memfault just seems like a thing that’s a thing, firmware flaws.
the German’s are coming! let’s head for the hill
but no concrete can protect us like bunkerBox will
poppy corn 2.0 is the new snack from Taali
my mom likes the texture but says after taste is the folly
did you know of a rare Kid’s Alzheimers called “Batten”?
if we can circumvent that then we should make it happen.
Xgenomes come up in green sequencing genes
the cof beams - most confident sidekick I’ve seen.
quantum computing may boggle you
not if you are the people who started AuroraQ.
portal entryways for those who need help, opens doors
with an app, with a tap, on a condo, or store.
the amount we know about our own DNA is pathetic
but why can’t we just be smarter? it’s probably genetic.
exhuming another industry from paleolithic tar pits
ai insurance machines learn on average how dinged your car gets.

and… a measly alarm sounds above
half hearted voice meeting side to side glances:
“everyone exit in an orderly fashion”

back for geopredict in some nerdy looking high-waist pants
but bold with open door for oil and gas.
brainkey for automated 3D brain diagnostics
but where’s heartkey to unlock and pop faces in lockets?
I need help. Empirically, what is true love made of?
from Loveless in Oakland, addressed to askdata.
inito goes where no man’s not hesitant
the only app in the app store that gets your pregnant.
		fading fast	droopy eyes
	six thousand dollar darth vader machine
			we 	try to ignore that p’s are q’s backwards
pocket buzz (someone wants to message me)	we can’t ignore
		that Stanford Graduate
			   	that slight bulge in the
we can’t ignore
			we the people	RAISE JAZZ HANDS
	in support of
			our steam-faced TECH BRETHREN
	 a white tech borther on a mission
on mission
		on a
					GEROSTATE ALPHA 	sleepy
	eyes shut eyes open
		my flapping gasp

“frozen at forty” when anti age drugs are
		ten years out
stem cellies
		or Jon deere for indoor farming - we could just
making bootleg nebullam merch now for the country demo
	and be
		weird plant wall thing
		a robotic “type” system
7 year slog - three year return, bearded founder CLAYTON MOONEY
	of Iowa
		he was forty seven years old

high functioning. fucktioning
			
		little/big chubby baby face pacifier cute
munchkin stubby toe’d munchkin little
	gimp hat - pumpky
nah, that’s cute that’s cute
			that’s cool, we’ll stay

green energy exchange im a fading tree in heavy winter
eyes sag body head keels over thursday
trying to get linked in
im so asleep I might be like: 
		the next generation of
fully licensed paper org with
	fifteen hundred on my waiting list
with bloody feet and mud smeared body
we try to be ravens and angle into water war
		a greener america
how a classroom “should look” according to TailorEd is with

	one kid passed out on their desk

feel I’m a swampy dander gazing stage for the wrong thing
crazy trainwreck brain lines take me back haighschool.
no they are presenting
blueberry medical is presenting.
how asleep am I? very. slipping off. coming away undone
	almost not existing
it’s the burritos, it’s the burritos they all complain in unison
this is the blueberrthing trying to go big
	smash the eBorder
the old square in Scotland
		where I was rug shopping in 2009

back from a break, two cookies and a decaf, switch stages 
		“Pioneer”
I peek backstage two
	founders in “loonify” shirts

the fact that loonify will balloon-launch small satellites
will surely leave flat earth proponents feeling justified.
as I could use a pachama so sleepy, and dream
of a truly effectual carbon offset scheme.
from your union apartment you may get a degree, true
but college doesn’t teach anything useful: you’ll need a careertu.
a ‘we’re the next amazon’ claim comes off cocky
still at scale there’s a market for bottomless coffee.
mythical basilisk, st. peter’s basilica, vatican, rome
leave 99.9% of your NN training data at home.
54gene is a new African gene database
unlike 23andme, it expands across race.
evo bots find the flaws in titles for playstation -
they’ll replace every human game tester with automation.
man’s torso, moreso, horse, though.
techquestrians from centaur labs arrow and bow.
next time the colon doc needs a peep up your soft spot
make sure they don’t miss any polyps - use docbot.
kalshi healthy gambling where the house doesn’t always win
and it’s legal beyond the walls of the city of sin.
don’t be a poor sport - install a new doorport
and next time you’re in Santa Monica play some board sports.
long long ago, in a galaxy Verizon hopes never exists: Volk Fi
a distributed celluar system with no data plan, amazing.
lumos says 5% of all goog searches med-related
so let there be light just for doctors created.
cheaper, better employee benefits - that won’t flop
plus a dash of “god damn” is the cherry on top.
Mei instapath not be confused with the carrot cart
something full automated, up it starts.
brings releaf to inefficient African assembly lines
kind of like how brother Sam U. pumps out the rhymes.
and synova gets two ex the stem cells from FAT.
… … beliiiiieeve that!
atomic alchemy generates nuclear medicines
wondering what sort of mushroom cloud my head is in?
if world leaders had good intel, peace would have a chance
let’s paint our world in data and zip up Trump’s pants.
	for real though, donate now: ourworldindata.org/donate
	
hi		i am Rob
	we remove CO2 from the air and turn it
			into gasoline. 	!

prometheus #nuffsaid

a break later my man Ruben from career karma in dope clothes
tackles job market woes and makes cash as it grows.
on my first time with PG: chat laps around Pioneer
he said “this tiny seed turns to sapling to sequoia giant o’er the years.”
we took a break right at 4:20 but I was too sick to hit Hua’s Reefer
but at least I made it back in time for the pitch from keeper.
cable TV is dying according to closer sports
it may go the way of the cathode ray, but still the logo needs work.

a perpetual taking and reliquishing of stage
a clamor of JAZZ HANDS
a “how loud should we clap for this”
a feeling of “AND NOW, THIS”
unending cycle of 3 minute distillations of 
3 months, the outset of 7 year journeys
and now, this.

trade loans with 100% collateral wouldn’t be wise
now Indian firms have a new option in Seawise. 
JAZZ HANDS
how often we find ourselves, mid-day, middesk
and yet rarely do we carry out biz-background checks.
	the poem.. must. go
			on
in fact. 	I’m switching
		I’m going into: datamode
	beeeeezoop bee bop 	biddle widdle wit
beezoop bee bop 
		bit beeeeooowwwm
			beezoop bee bop beep beep 
	biddle widdle wit
		beezoop bee bop bit beeowowowowowow
now im stegged out HU HUH
	FULL BOAR
steady datamode
		01011001
			stegasaurus REX mother fucker 
FULL DATA MODE
	11011010
JAZZ HANDS

data mode. all facts. never fictional
an improvement on old ass EDI’s like convictional.
I sleep in my mom’s basement - but only tell my closest friends
on a new social media app… we know how this ends.
encarte is a one stop checkout across pages
a passport to 30k smaller ecomm destinations.
it will be a supernova. a brilliant light!
takes design mocks and spins them into code that’s… alright.
	oof… I’m winded. yikes yikes
		a sail torn
					JAZZ HANDS
oh ok shit here I am. 
					here’s.
	it’s um it’s called 	
		edyst
a company that does things
		don’t let students waste money
	this is draining, time remaining?
could someone put a clock up?
		docbot, out your butt
	but then up, becomes dockup
or then there’s pershop it’s the perfect bazaar
that shows just what you like and knows what size you are.
or for gaming enemy on board brings togeth mafia and LOL
so a made to watch MOBA that’s perfect for trolls.
	JAZZ HANDS
taobotics’ bots bring the coke aisle to YOU
an automate selfie opp and sales improved.
what’s next. JAZZ
		this is windsor
			the brain grows thin
how many companies? K-Complexes? Sleep-spindles?
	I’m inside out I’m inside out I’m inside In.
HANDS
cargo crate hovership boundary layer
	hydrofoil fast as the air freight quarter the cost
		JAZZ HANDS
mew mew
		meow
blub blub blub 		and  		WOW
what is this? something for me? as a Lactose intolerant?
eclipse has micelle milk magic - for vegans and asians
MILK MILK MILK 
			JAZZ HANDS MILK MILK

at heart we build it - 19 person electric planes
my water based heart wrestles an electric brain.
don’t forget the underscore when you _rebank
better bank helps companies send money.
	JAZZ HANDS
		 JAZZ HANDS
JAZZ HANDS
	a man with the voice of a podcast producer
explains preflight can help you test code before users	
			J			ZZ
a tooth in the
		HNDZ		JAAAZsZs
	best wind farm in the lands buy and build sell for 4x
trying my best traversing this wild vortex
	JAZZ hands but let’s be honest the problem is jizz
and the solve is uncomfy until your choice gives
	 	a new man-pill an option will can condone
when I rush to go buy them I won’t be alone
	the prospect alone gives old dogs
		 new bones
and lest forget schoolable helping with 
private school access in poorer nations…
JAZZ
						HANDS
	JAZZ HANDS
			JAZZ HANDS
odd reiki 					HANDS
	JAZZ
			JAZZ HANDS
o	ff			record
		JAZZ HANDS		JAZZ
HANDS		
				
				ZZ	
			JA
	Z
					Zzz

“hey um, I think your bathroom needs more toilet paper
	and… more possibilities.”

toodles til
d nxt batch

esc
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1382721 2019-03-07T18:11:39Z 2019-03-07T18:11:39Z You! Do you think you can discourage the hungry mouse from coming down here?
Do you really think you can charm the apples off a tree,
the seeds out of an apple,
the ivory cream out of a glass of milk?

Soy milk is the only guiltless indulgence.
Unlike milk milk it doesn’t come from a bulging utter.
Unlike almond milk it doesn’t enslave bees.
Soy beans are a mainstay of the American Soy/Corn Agricultural Complex.
They even put nitrogen back into the dirt where they grow.
It doesn’t have a lot of protein though.
Some people say it turns you into a girl.

Do you think you can really, really ask out a high school girl to dance?
I mean back in time of course, of course I mean
really, really go to the prom -
not just with some rando.

Here I am, guiltless, post-soy-milk,
but I had an almond croissant actually.
Dante has one circle of hell for
or in the words of Mr. Roboto
“Bezelbub has a devil set aside for me.”
or was it - “どうもありがとう.”

Heaven’s splendor == milk mixed with Splenda.
Chariot swings Sweet-n-low.
I’m not saying that God’s sugar is fake;
I’m saying he needs to use more of it.
Some butter wouldn’t hurt - it’s Ash Wednesday.
A little charred edge is a sign of a good toast.

Was about to drop a crumb for the mouse:
he scampers silently along the wall crease,
disturbing quiet blur,
almost imagined.
What is he rooting around for these
New York Mice,
bigger than a mouse should be.
How big a mouse should be?
No need to crumb encourage him here.

Do you really think?
A mouse gets less hungry by eating?
I have seen a dog scarffle up its own vomit - is this getting dicey?
Oh no! Oh god sorry I 

I wanted to end things off on a good note
but nicey doesn’t play that game
no he

third person positive 
no he.

No he doesn’t does he. No he does, he
or worth anything

mark my words:

“I’ll reassemble your stinking heap of a conglomerate.”
“I'll stow your cabin bag.”
“I’ll fish you.”
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1381890 2019-03-05T21:06:01Z 2019-03-05T21:06:01Z mango morning i was so sleepy
the dreams were good
a little kid
determined friend 
crying next to his scooter

graffiti on brick 
graffiti on brick
last train from Nostrand is an airborn A C
uptown adventure
we landed on pigs
their snouts all tickled me

i was so sleepy
cutting the mango kept thinking:
“heathenism”
eat this mango like a heathen
but floss after

(instead of my morning banana)
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1379523 2019-02-28T06:25:10Z 2019-03-04T00:42:34Z I Shadow
	Who learned a lesson called “I love you” as 
a kid?
		Momma did, Momma said she did
			Love me-you I mean.
	Momma loved the American Baby, she gave that little 
squeaking lump its first smear of eye shadow

Baby learned how to say “I love you”
	Baby learned how to look in the mirror
		Baby learned how to say “I love you” to the mirror
apply eye shadow and now say back - “I love you more.” 

Baby grew up. strut down beauty boulevard in gleamy plats
		glanced in mirror store window - “Baby, I love you.”
mirror grew up too. all new gadgetry. mirror
		slaps eye shadow on Baby with a magic tap
	mirror turns Baby into a damn sexy puppy
			a.n.d. shows off to all Baby’s friends. 

---
teeth bared. I HAVE TO MOVE. I HATE LIVING HERE eyes tense wide open. WHY DO YOU HAVE TO MAKE EVERYTHING SO DIFFICULT cheek trickle shimmers gold and black flecks.
---
there’s gold in that river - there’s enough deep teal sprinkle shine lime lit blinding buckshot scatter glitter to cram every crack in the side walk there’s enough gold in that river to smear on the souls we come home to, too but what alchemy makes two “I love You”’s into “I love I” and “You love You”
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1378144 2019-02-25T03:18:35Z 2019-02-25T03:18:35Z sum night viper Some night viper’s chewing on his plum whisker,
rummaging in his candy satchel, 
the pants are enormous:
swift thwump of redumption.

New biosphere: this one teaming with green life.
We merched to the bank of extinction
where jammed, a new mammoth (mastodon)
rose to the tusk of DNA planter.

As I sort through my lust, mental clutter at dusk
it occurs you were right all along.
Meanwhile, I was left at expense to tap desk
with a pen whose blue ink had been drawn.
]]>
tag:esc.posthaven.com,2013:Post/1369029 2019-01-31T21:55:04Z 2019-01-31T21:55:05Z Waking Poem 2 what a ride
what a ride
endless dream after dreams.
dream becoming another dream
dream that never ends
halls stair wells and little doors of your imagination 
you chase the witch
she is down there she is down there

focusing on sensation proves the surest path to pleasure
pleasure is intense and realistic
in a dormitory

a blob of ink that hits the page and shatters
into one hundred colorful consciousnesses
some wobble and wane as others burst forth
the name of the game is

you are more than one
you are not alone
within you without
and within you become
multitudinous

oh my
oh my

these friends joined the beds with me

and were alarmed at my unending slumber
careening to the valleys of dream
at times beautiful in others
the terror was so much as to jolt me from sleep
the clamor
the building sensation of fear as suddenly im shot shot
again im shot in my own driveway
for not having any cannabis
im brought down

conquered.

intense and delightful
spears and swords
mirrors on walls
who are we and where

the big house
explore my new environs
nyc out on the street
finding myself in a new scene
its newly realistic - #repainted
look what they did with the place
the magical hall ways are full of signs

i want something different
tired of the same orgiastic pulse

brought my little potted plant army here
along for the ride
they are passengers now on my dream ship

this ship only gives way to fire
and theres no horizon it cannot cross my
dream sheep
asleep in a dream within a dream

all of of us organized oddly in the beds
two here, three in that one
he kindly lets me know im exposed

little greasing of the wheels
oh no no nobody nothing compares to that 
funky splendor that one two cupcake
that here you are and yank you different
i can fall asleep easily
feeling that odd rush that teleports us back
into the dream context
that deeper rush
dreaming within a dream

i might be human
but the coffee im drinking 
came from the dream world

my hand lifts as if by a ghost
and it is moved to write a poem
]]>