Topic provided by Miles Budimir was: “2nd law of thermodynamics (entropy, etc…)”
Writing time: 47 minutes.
Discarded ideas: empiricism/mysticism, using wryneck form
Kept ideas: catalog, light tone with serious topic
I shall fall off a cliff and die
and like a blind dog falling off the same cliff,
my son will die, and his son;
from that same cliff until, one day, that
fucking cliff will fall off itself.
its crumbs shall crumble into themselves
until the earth becomes a peppery dust
that makes the sun sneeze; blown away.
The waning moon will wonder
what it did deserve this.
and the sun shall use the last
fingernail crescent of the moon for a toothpick before going nova.
the empty wake of space will lap against itself
for a bit, and at that ceasing; here,
after the end of time, and not since before the beginning
of time, for the second time,
it may be quiet enough to think.
My mother’s dog Iris was killed by a coyote today in the fall rains. I remember when we got her, eleven or twelve years ago, not long after my parent’s divorce. We drove quite a distance to find the dachshund puppies and I picked the lone black & tan one from the litter. I kept her in my coat on the way home and she whimpered and yelped for hours on end. I said I was going to keep her with me through the night, but her yiping was such that I passed her off to mom that same night, and she was hers from then on. I told mom that’s how I knew that I wasn’t ready to have a child.
She had seven nipples. I called her Iris Underfoot because she was always around my feet, and I accidentally stepped on her a few times when she was a puppy sitting right behind me as I washed dishes. She grew extra bowl-legged because of this. She was a princess of a dog, and my mom would never punish her for getting into the trash or chewing through just about anything. When we had to start caging her, mom bought the largest cage for a little miniature dachshund. If ever my mom and I went to hug each other she’d grow indignant and bark and bark until we stopped. She was indignant about a lot of different things, a gallon of fuss and bother in a pint of dog. She would run and run and run and patrol the acres of yard we had and it was hilarious to watch her tear across the yard after something or someone.
She used to front on the horses in the field next door and one day Beau the horse decided to mess with her, he galloped toward her, Iris was frozen in fear, slowed and stopped in front of her and then just nudged her with his nose. She yiped and skedaddled. I’m pretty sure she never acted uppity to the horses ever again, instead choosing to regularly corner [and get sprayed by] a skunk under the deck. She wouldn’t eat, drink or poop if mom wasn’t around.
Her full name was The Lady County Blue Iris Jean McAfee MacDougal Onassis von Barnard Jean Harvey III, Esq. Berghein-Leer; and though I gave her a lot of shit, I’ll miss her.
today i talk about death. logically people should have no fear of death. illogically we try various and sundry forms to prolong our lives and use terminology such as escape, cheat, and avoid in reference to death. News flash. no one can escape, cheat or avoid death. period. life and death are dichotomous and cannot exist apart from their opposite. if there is no death, there can be no viable idea of life if it has no point of reference, no finitude. perhaps that is why infinity is so hard to comprehend, since we are infinitely finite. this holds true for all dichotomies.
there is also the null set, indifference, lack of either life/death, love/hate, sacred/profane. where all is void. unexplainable by me.