Thomas Lowe Taylor -- V I S I O N A R Y E D U C A T I O N

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Thomas Lowe Taylor

"The task of the teacher becomes that of preparing a series of motives of cultural activity, spread over a specially prepared environment, and then refraining from obtrusive interference." Maria Montessori, Education for a New World

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ONE: NOTES FOR AN EVENT


"Question: Well, why do you go to another culture to get your myth?

Charles Olson: Well, you knock me out if you say that. I just thought I bridged the cultures. (He laughs) I don't believe in cultures myself. I think that's a lot of hung up stuff like organized anything. I believe there is simply ourselves, and where we are has a particularity which we'd better use because that's about all we got. Otherwise we're running around looking for someone else's stuff. But that particularity is as great as numbers are in arithmetic. The literal is the same as the numeral to me. I mean the literal is an invention of language and power the same as numbers. And so there is no other culture. There is simply the literal essence and exactitude of your own. I mean, the streets you live on, or the clothes you wear, or the color of your hair is no different from the ability of, say, Giovanni di Paolo to cut the legs off Santa Clara or something. Truth lies solely in what you do with it. And that means you. I don't think there's any such thing as a creature of culture.

I think we live so totally in an aculturated time that the reason we're all here that care and write is to put an end to that whole thing, put an end to divisions of all sorts. And to do this, you have to put the establishment out of business. It's just a structure of establishment. Any my own reason for being, that I feel that today, as much as action, the invention...not the invention, but the discovery of formal structural means is as legitimate as, is for me the form of action. The radical of action lies in finding how organized things are genuine, are initial, to come back to that statement I hope I succeeded in making about the imago mundi. That that's initial in any of us. We have our picture of the world and that's the creation."

* * *

Though it is in language that world becomes palpable, it is in utterance that it becomes sacred: in a literal focus of energy, breathed and voiced, explosions from the lungs in a mixed expiration, tongue-acted. So speech and song as a combination of act and making: word-act, what I come to see as voice-flesh-act.
That is, from the imitation of imagination, speech is cryptic. Though reminiscence rounds it off into its structural value. A syntax of this very process would yield to the actual distance of things.
Up against speech-language, in its sequences, we have laid consciousness as an open pool, set like a mirror before the ear to catch word. The empty space of consciousness as mother of will / laid within the man-organ, against the seriality of his acts.
A serial persuasion yields personal diameters; out of the choice-field would lie patterns of equal response.
Personal voice: out of process rather than necessity, a private / impersonal. Or as it becomes known (again, out of nostalgia), in the sense that knowing is rather like memory, as open processes eclipse the personal, the vocal-private-impersonal impels through relation: that is as the topics eclipse their own verbal-oral-cultural plasticity, out of one's vernacular singleness, speech-acts come to structure the growth of the conscious.
To go back, then, to the initial sequence of perceptions, rather to ride through the birth-act, is to honor the house (body), to give moment or shape to the desire for understanding: however broadly one finds his own personal spread down before him, there seems to exist another boundary, out of future-time, boundary-like. Or to get around an apparent objection to mysticism, to posit the legibility of the "passing-beyond" as a form of serial language implicit in the relation of series to consciousness, right? The thing is done, is getting done, and one knows it, has it there before him.
The true character of observation might then be understood as extensions of consciousness (rooted) though there is, located maybe, somewhere, a double vision (a re-view), more a double consciousness, an inverse of awareness, like guilt or the other way around. Our legacy, anyhow, to see it twice and have it come in between the act and process, a pornography of the forms.
The beloved, somehow personalized, and then photographed. Or our own preoccupation with medium (flesh-blood-speech active, muscular, breathed). So it distinguishes as a coherence between image and act and the poetic at its current state.
Surely the passing-beyond relieves poetry from its cryptic isolation. Cultural enterprises seem to be allowed. Now, vision, inherent in any consideration of "the quality of the act" might then consist in the manipulation of symbols. There is a suggestion (of this) in the introduction to Theosophist Annie Besant's Thought Forms.

* *

Visionary education, as it takes place, relies on event-process as a voiced convenience. A consciousness of means which does not quibble, that is an inner dimension which carries the focus down.
Where is the focus? In the parallel? Where are you placed there? No contest.
OK, no value anywhere but in acts. First, and then this whole business of the literal miscalculation (being literal about the literal), as regards acts; seems to arise from closed process and a notion of ends-as-such. Open process would carry the serial out beyond, that in each is pre-scribed the consequences of the succeeding act; therein resistance, to recognition even, though that's the point, that what is voiced is a state of being and that there are other states. To declare a hierarchy flaws the act. Into value, again, as choice.

* *

So right there, even, at the matter of word choice (the "numen" of selection), there is a hesitation at going-back-over-it, perhaps an inability. In these terms, whose monolog?
The succession of acts and successively inclusive states of response. The "new" language appears as-such, to examine the quality of the new, or of initiation, or birth. Literal act, however, in its crudest form, intervenes, almost to obscure the means of relief. I mean, the quality of acts (as perceived), both as a referent to possibility and as an impulse to memory. The dynamic of it, again, qualifies. Hence, inversion, to both succession and space. No error: allusion (to accept responsibility) is a gesture toward the actual. In acts, too, a residue.
Aphorism, too, almost like afterthought.
"So, is it not the play of a mind we are after, is not that that shows whether a mind is there at all?" (Olson)
Whose?
Now, the relation to the ceremony includes, even departure, there, into private voice (song?), to allow the overtones to define certain categories of being. After the fact, of course; the experience precedes the model. What's up, through the line and through love, is the perpetual condition of voice and relation enacted, consciousness embodied in its proper uni-verse (one song). And speech as afterthought, that lag, is only problematical.
So to continue. Through the matter of evidence and hesitation, the voice affixes itself to the person under hand, and all that precedes speech falls into its proper antagonism, the repetition of initial acts, preceded by their causes, out of such flux as continues to move away, out of "sight" in either direction. Loss. But not error; slippage, perhaps, but not necessarily means.
Energy is too vague a term, since its balance (expense) is a motion. Ok, fine, the thing cannot be described, or worse than that, can. The forces are organized. And then wait. What is that?
The condition?
Awaitment, I thought, past the cultural into our proper sphere, the top of the head, still soft. But we leave, we are always leaving, and the situation is left, expressed, its vernacular obedient to cause. Final. Context in another yearning after the sequential. But hurrying on, in a pace toward the familiar.
Foundations are behaviors, too, aligned as easily as true speech, so the problematical and quantitative means of information are expressed. Not to trouble anything, but as a temporary locus of the image, or the vision. Or the impulse of a shadow, declining into prejudice, requiring periodic affirmations.
I think this all precedes utterance altogether. There is a space present in it, identified, allowable, but which is (becomes) qualitative, and to that degree resists its own definition, which is neither self nor identifiable description. To say that it is meant would give to the speaker (whomever) more than he has offered. But an impulse to information seems important. Naturally (equivocally), it is better in a crystallized form. And the inhering of that, the distance from the subject, to drive it back, out of its own accretions, not quite to the point of control, sadly enough, but to its resistance; then, in naming, at least, there, to the exact, to the actual syntax or immediate sense of the thing, assuming (for once) that however one starts, he would head-in to the center. That is, if all points are equidistant from the center, and if all lines are (serially) straight lines.
And so on.
If it is not to presumptuous to get ahead of process, it is at least an exploration, of going nowhere. The cold point. But then, one would want to experience all things, it is said; but in what order? There must be none at that cold point. A most unsequential, unmoving location.
A notion of "mental events", however roughly it is laid out, would prescribe the center. It is visible in every of our moments. (shared) Referent, implied, assumed.
So pace delivers. The community is already there, visible. And the cold point (of relaxation) is a welcome fix, the word gets out. THEN: the metabolic pace.
Speech styles, accretion of acts, all assumed behind the methods of behavior, multi-ordered. No single declaration of distinctness, but an allowance (faith, "traditionally") that this leap across synapses was conceived originally (though that's loaded) as possible. Toward the good, with all the cynicism necessary for a maintenance of literal miscalculation. Or error (what has not yet been conceived: Otto Rank).
Participation mystique: in language, between the spoke and the unspoke, there is not much distance, and to value speech is not necessarily to honor the oral. OK, that's neat, if nothing else: contradictions of the parable reveal us (to restate it). But the oral-cultural-historical comes out of where we were, and if you trust yr memory that much, you're better than I am, the last second is rushing back from me. No pinnacle. But private speech in an impersonal setting has a drift which encounters some familiar shapes, though one could preoccupy himself with identification. The thing is up and going, pushed hesitantly along by the acolytes. They may be in it for the money, but they're pushing. Even out of the American locale, some poetry persists; certainly the vision, inclusive and temporary, initiates here, from outlasting the dialectical into the serial mode, where an accretion of detail drives the old context of muscular breath-acts back into a sharp focus. The diminished visual (the work was done, finished about twenty years ago, just go to the George Eastman House) reaffirms, frinstance, Chagall and Albers. They belong to the same age, and so to the rest of us, for that, anyway.
The free act, thanks to some reminders from the surrealist writers as against Miller's agony of separations, as against some thoughts about chanting the text in unison (reading?) and a tendency to begin to be able to notice the shifts.
The processes of transformation without idealizing time any more, would inhere within acts. A pornography of consciousness would only delay decision but not postpone indefinitely. So the terms for weight would allow passage along from the familiar through to the formulary and into the private. Which is transparent enough already.

The final act is just that: initiatory.


* * *

"A sentence is in fact a transfer of force, from object to object by verb."

But to get the matter firm, it is where Olson lodges, in the active, actual man, especially possessed of speech where it lies in, holds to and while the seeker comes to his means, the quest, and in others, communes, it is in the active man that speed commends itself to its proper relation between consciousness and the community, that in the words chosen and in those spoken that a man is, and is shown in his immediate and particular state. And without making any substitutions for myself, here, that if we have come to know this double of consciousness, that we would go toward a double vision in which the parts collide and coalesce and reapportion into the new constituencies.
But the activity, what is this proper activity itself, out of the personal and celebratory, into what context for the numen "did I choose my life?" and if so..." how, and to what advantage, if it lies in that, to know."
The retrievable, then, has its shape in what is familiar, as the guide who comes in the form of the butcher in a black apron who is going to cut you up to look for the shaman bone. Neither in Artaud nor in Cage do these new constituencies lie, but in the doubled vision and the triple sequence, or movement from voice through exploration to (into) consciousness. "That trope, man", Olson calls it.
I am the event, it goes, center of the focus, hot point and registration of all that I come to and through the event of self and process, conjunction as it were, come to speech.
"For truth is only the measure of the process thought. And thought is functional. You can't not 'think'. As you live you think."
That the law is: that has meaning which is itself to itself, as prime relation and fact of being-consciousness. And at no loss or gain to the species, by that which has us operating, so to speak, at function-levels according to state or will-to-action. But in no way diminished.
Now to work this out of the mundane, or what will I do about it, is right, exact, public sentiment about the real, inhering to some new end, inclusion. Exact. To have the series start with encounter. And what is general here is not method but complex, and (to head around) precisely that which exhibits, as "erudition", a false value which is attached to reason, dictates behaviors in proportion to the old term "blindness", as in-seeing and mute. But of that relation (of self-in-self) as a physicality, or assumption, the completeness of being presents it, the matter, as a law (way).
Thus the peculiarity of the present: What should we ask for? The turn, out of the new consciousness, having moved across, on the literal from figure to symbol, where the distinctions clarify drift or chance; anyway, there is a quality to "image" which refuses elusion, the structural persists and as evidence and means comes to strength: what there is to see has the reflected meaning of its allowances. The mirror runs in either direction.
Certainly, what we have known as cultural events retains a focus in the particular, like the residues of musical experience.
But the literalness of authority, when processed out, seems to have become less static, and as one is in motion, one can get a hold of the thing at last, to ride. The least hesitant consequences of the act. Or, like looking around.
So, I think we are least considered on the matter of speech models and oral series, where it comes to the matter, speech-active man, of relating the real, the palpable, world (out of language) and the literal fact of it, in consciousness and of the whole movement through illusion (via skill), at least in us as focused or registered participants. I mean like getting hold of the whole thing and of running, it, there's nothing to that but the doing of it, and that if in the doing of it something becomes apparent, then beyond all necessity one wants to follow it (curiosity and desire); in the union of act (speech and thought) does the permanent bond inside "that trope man", us as doer and done thing, but spoke. And to honor.
"Life is the success of a play of creative accidents. It is in the principle of randomness seen (is) its essential application, not in any serial order imposed at random on either chance or accident (the new tautologies of the old Chaos) but in the factual observation of how creation does occur: by the success of its own accident."
In speech, how the eyes focus and where and on what and to what intensity, where (also) the set of the face and the muscles, and in what event known and done but self and thing and what is spoke. "The motive, then, of reality is process, not goal."
The lag, to come through metabolism and chemistry to process, is to carry all that is weighty into an essential footrace. So to run it out, out of time, to make space, through the vernacular, as spoke, (to Wordsworth, too) would be that allowance: past style and the dogmatic. Use.
The fashionableness of light: to make the broad turn out of history, out of conscience, is to locate some of these priorities, and closely. In act in its proper sphere and dominion, and in vision where the mysteries are lodged, and in word, where patterns emerge and coalesce to newness (delight and joy). Not only simultaneous, into speech-active story-teller and image-maker, but to go through necessary silences at the will and center of the community, to be the mean point, at the center of the descent, in the free-over-backwards-falling-flight, in the loss of space which is space, there are some questions which I come to out of repetition.
"And my considered argument is, that it can only do this if it is the sensor of the set of qualities of which it is one part: that only if Beauty, Love, and the Idea are included by it, that no will can be 'free'--that is, both child and father of the beautiful, the good (as love), and the idea (as thought or truth).
"But note the rest of the thought (the other half): the infinitive of being/becoming--is neglected or left out. These four cannot be unstuck any more than the other two sets of four. And the tensor of all three sets is that one thing you are throughout: man. Actual wilful man." (Olson)


* * *

But to speak to the essential difficulty, "what am I doing", that if one takes in fully the preceding, and if the community, the commonality of the good, comes to be actually, the sum and total of its diversity, the whole business of the future and the inheritance might become more central.
And again, in terms of these transformations we try to justify or understand, what comes to be lack or emptiness (void) are seen to be, literally, matters of immense developmental significance for (even) those of us who are unaware of the degree and immensity of the unknown of which our senses are made only dimly aware in their constituency in the physical process.
Which gives the absolute its power. Our will to be its part. And as we coincide in our habits, we come to know our lives, it is this humanism which seeks expression in us.
So: first, to know, that feeling is in the realm of the good, then to speak what we are, out of all our acts toward being, always toward an always more inclusive curiosity, in recognition of the other in our acts ("other" as the not-me, the unsequential ego) and to come to the essential in our relations as immediacy, as crux and crumble, toward the factual always, in our passages and unmentionablenesses. To ring it like a bell.
The common act of consciousness, and the root exploration of it follows, unjustified, wilful and compulsive, bears our close attention, and not out of the selfish but toward recognition of the locations of the data.
The making of the universe, by my acts made. Nor any presumption, to proceed out of the a-historical, the body, into salvage (to let something through or to see in metaphor, something of the qualities of the negative).
In some seclusion, then, does this all take place. As the dream comes into utterance, takes life, there are all sorts of residues, a falling off, a skinning away to the essential nudity of a high diver, twisting past gravity, and the non-functional, to some essential twists and spasms, into the water--no splash.
The representatives of consciousness are elocution (the forms) and transformation (the states).


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TWO: CULTURE AND PORNOGRAPHY

"To act is one thing: to know one is acting is another" (Cioran)



* * *

By close and immediate distinctions, the thing becomes, discerned by focal establishing: but to bounce it back and out, the line through events, to this other kind of acting, and not hung out into words only, that would be cause.
Or, in the peculiarity of our own diminished knowing, where it parts again and again, it would be how I am set off from my own causes, or exactly where reflection lies at the heart of resolution. This sequentiality or motion I imagine myself in-the-midst-of. Vocal, then, as the act is, and where this doing comes across is different. No new language ever, but my own immediacy within, like a secretion. The timeliness of responding. So the personal is secret. A reflection is presupposed; meditation has its name in stasis. But the terrible silence of words, where are they stacked up in love?
Obscure cultural immediacies; not (exactly) how consciousness is used, more the content in which it lives, that its clarity has elicitations and extensions, that a reasonable moment has callings, too, but the persistence of the old through things, and again, where the motions are, finally, closed in seeing. That.
"The thing itself" we might say, even of silence, where it becomes exposed. To no reflection, and my own name lost in another chance or diversion. After the facts. But I know that, that beyond the name ("Air", for instance), the residues of incompleteness are not elusive, and definitions follow innately, uncaused but by our own place. Not "the times" and not simply movement or annihilation, too simple, there, that the vernacular runs out and that in presupposing renewal one commits, perpetrates "another". No, the child persists. We wonder after those necessities of the old or of the means. It is not apparent. This very act.
A loss of acts or processes, there are differences, first of attention and finally the missing element, what knowing itself has circumscribed in the doing. An expansion. So, merely to record. The presence of the act, a nullity.
A gap. That the very things we experience might be the thing itself. Which has elliptical boundaries and connotations, from which special vocabularies are made, and out beyond that, where precedence occurs, to the markings, rhetorical, to be kept. So the special distinctions adhere as well as they are made and in the act is a certain residue (mystery), perhaps the style of place.
Just as the collapse is temporal, like a figure.
A fixed image is sufficient for the material, which is attached to no thing. Historical moment of no place and attached to no thing. But that very preciousness from which our sacred privacy reacts, startled. "That very thing itself," to pile up space upon space, always toward the surety of the new, the confident, the actful.
No, it is not simply a momentary peculiarity which persists through perceptible locations, further erosion assures us of that, but an example. Closing in upon it or backing off, those are the experiences, and the nothingness of spacial relation persists defined and undefined, alternating, echoing, persistent.
My own heart-beat, that close.
However, if I were lying down, and if I insisted upon it, that I were doing so, the tour de force itself would elicit a content of process. The special observation necessary to completion is absent, and importantly so. A vital consequence, but unadvanced.
Lesser moments might become less distinct in other times, as we call them, though ours, as we call it, is certainly ours.
This explicit shape we have bears us on toward the familiarity of conscious responding, like the concept of repetition rather than its quality of security and impatient closure.
A diminished presence, prose.
No-one is certain yet, although the evidence may already be there. Our heroes "of evidence", like innovations, tests, hesitancies, perhaps it rejects us, the Dantean host, blackened out of moment, charred, processed: but left.
Possibly: a suggestion.
The doom of events has elastic resonances. That is as likely as any other. And the renewed presence of argument is reassuring, that we might lean into it, alone and simple: but I am the topic here, this invisibility I met.
"An act becomes perverse as it loses visibility." The heart of it. Who observes? What passed? When? And so on.
Still for what I am, in what I imagine to be my familiar processes, there are inclusions to which I would be introduced. A pressure from either one side or the other. A bell ringing, and light from the direction of my eyes. Followers descent.
And further on, a blocked space which causes me to turn, from inertia gaining "through" encounter to ease, there is no diminishing aspect, only that static center, as unfamiliar as feelings are, and undefined. There!

* * *


The fable and the imitation.
Or I might say that collation is active (i.e., "against"), and that experiencing is close, close against it, too.
We are after more than effects here, or even distance, or "propriety".
But the whole cause....
No longing, even.
"Was seen", perhaps, knowing and remembering, though "out of the present" occupies me too closely. I don't even know a single example; keep it going, we say, keep it up (up?).
The effect is cause enough.
Too easy.
Against the definition of what was caused as forgetting, in no position, and clarity (or a value). Rest.
Private value, personal value, reflection. And cause, and back again.
"Can it be reproduced in others" is cause enough, for vertigo, perhaps.
Purpose has an edge, too, in what is known. He seems to know what he is doing; elusive. Or eluding pressure; though for me, he has disappeared entirely in it. Not a single trace remains. No letters. Sleep, then, to rest, for reflection or an image, and for going on or back, either way.
Either way, from stasis to stasis, rest, the photograph and the story, what of that, what of the remains evoking further cause: the build-up toward and from.
Whose?
Pressure to collapse.
We grind into collection, and imitate our very produce. In acts. There is that form, that act, that name.
"One always perishes by the self one assumes: to bear a name is to claim an exact mode of collapse." (Cioran)
The obscure but precise fissure, closed as evidence, a preoccupation from the observable, another new fragmentation. relief from indistinct language: in the form of the hero, some totally inclusive error of observation which causes being, diminishing the thing-known to process or motion, and the sought category perishing by the very weight of the quest.
The fable.
Out of such lightning progress, where hesitation hangs on each claim for attention, might there be a further reliance, or pursuit, or weight, or balance....
Or loss. It hangs back.
Unobserved and unfamiliar. Where the wearing-down originates, but what of my own impatience, like an inheritance, this shift, too.
We have driven it, in some direction, clear of all boundaries, out of passing and claims, to some territorial philosophy. but words are simple and singular.
Not even problematical doing surprises. And back again, perpetually, a particular locale, or visit, or reminiscence. Qualities of bouncing.
Undiminished.
And then, after that, recurring dreams.
"...is perhaps that very thing itself." Disabused.

* * *

"My will the enemy held, and thence had made a chain for me, and bound me. For of a froward will, was a lust made; and a lust served, became custom" (St. Augustine)

Where the world, a single event, a single situation interpenetrates with the single consciousness of act. It is the one continuing through the other one, one in one combined by acts.
Through the undiminished error of the "new" place.
Posterior to the singularity of the event, the surety of one's blindness before it, and then after, the ferment, singular descriptions of the status of the process, as old as the new physics and as likely to reduce the actual into categories of control. But in saying there is no movement, and in the building of monuments, no simple accretion of space. The occupation of the boundary-zone. Like a rejoinder, not exactly a response to the senses nor experiencing of its own is the task, through feeling to space, the monument is its name only, and after that "...Love, love that holds so high the cry of my birth, how great a sea moving towards the Woman who loves! Vine tramples on all shores, blessing of foam in all flesh, and song of the bubbles on the sands....Homage, homage to the divine ardor!" (St. John Perse).
The return, sending, and the work maintain themselves as parallels of event rather than locales of immediacy. Though it is always to flavor that we respond.
At least out of some kindness to the image and its sources, that difficulty is experienced in that a reflection of the event which denies either act or process, and to neither subscribes, to nothing inhering, in no place signified but in its essential reflecting, in its doing.
There, "in alternate identification and detachment (one) is free", which is neither the condition nor the obscure act, but a description of a memory, which exists as a hope. To lose that, from the relative distinctions of attention dismissed is the drift of either act or will. Closed fable.
And heaviness within, sinking. Into flat discord, the reachable bottom, a distinction of even-ness which goes at act and seeing and the sureness with which they become values, that very confidence is suspect, out of the balancing disaster which thought becomes in its consciousness of itself. So there is no assurance, though a successful mode persists, and toward the good, to break out among the energies of will and word, a matching of sequence, act and process: though it is in this very act itself (again) that we will perceive (receive) motions accessible to consequence, that is, have laid ourselves open not to either ease or disease but to a loss commending ourselves to the one in the other one, to act and process in the immediacies of response.
Popular unacceptibility, always, where it rests out of one's own disaster of pressure, the pornographic susceptibility to repetition and extent, to define, there, where it is what it is, and no denying that, and that we might not interrupt the sequence out of the familiar by placing ourselves ahead of what we are, at least not by preceding ourselves. It is not to be relived.
But approached, without head-dresses, disguising the senses in their acceptances of their own evidence, no, but that the whole unitary mode drives the static into its parts only to have them remain there, out of all anticipation, unreminiscent and unfathomed; the impulse to observe has then become fulfilled, a horror has been re-established and from there no redress out of the actual to another actual.
The new is full of that. And faithful to it.
Which is a moment within discourse, and seems to direct itself ("itself out of itself") toward, against and through the intellectual (reason and discourse present in whatever form the speech-act takes) and seems finally to abandon it from some further enlightening. But if a quality of action, whether cultural or absolute, which distinction ought to do and out to reflect something of the tension here, it is that placement of the moment or event in some location other than itself which prohibits the event itself, which prohibits, which is the essence of the pornographic.
Where one is lead to one's initial. Where mind's ability to contradict itself becomes signal to eventuation, where a harmony of anticipations is inevitable. The pain of existence represents itself to us not as solution nor as resolution, but as "the thing itself."
Elliptical. In that solid geometry of conceptioning do we notice that the pleasure requires acting. Ecstatic configuring, where the shape of an event warps to confusing, one evidences the reversal of form.
The purpose of discourse would become a kind of functional reflection. As I address myself to the initial flavor of my anticipation, do I discover that its obscurity lies in its necessity of reproducing itself into further anticipation. The unobserved loss of dimension predicts the senses.
In the balance, some restitution of alternation. The very content of acting, where thing-seen commends itself to thing-seeing.
"Perhaps these people are expedient in the unnamables. Maybe they bargain in feelings, in pleasure, even in simple contact." (Steinbeck)
If the relapse through the guilt-of-the-new has no exchange, no reversal, no recurrence, I might make the impossible discovery that the repetition of events is not discoverable in them but elsewhere. Which leaves the matter entirely at rest, appropriate only to response. Which leaves me with the practice of activity. It is clear that the practice itself is active; in a drama, we are led out into sentences and construing, into the form of the event, and finally, into the event itself, which is where this has all taken place.

...The roll of the returning waters
over the stone stretches
remotely
reaching us. (Duncan)

((proper form of response/not discussable
in descriptive terms/but in terms of the/meaning of the act,
how it is that one did/what one did in the/way that one did it/
intention, direction,/location. what it represents./
"I just did it."))


* * *

NARROWING THE ATTENTION FIELD

all
wrong
And I am asked--ask myself (I, too, covered
with the gurry of it) where
shall we go from here, what can we do
when even the public conveyances
sing?
how can we go anywhere (the bodies
all buried
in shallow graves?
Charles Olson, Songs of Maximus #2

Out of the legitimacy of the one in the one, the first step remains, how to address oneself from the ground, from zero, into the air, into the one:
The view, that speech inheres to dialog, and to act, and that our locale constitutes a pornographic dominion of a reflection of the one into its image, the one-in-the-other, and that interpenetration of the one into itself, into the one, relieves itself out of initiation.
As the separate senses coagulate toward self is not new; multiple input primitive.
But from the law (itself unto itself), and from the data of the poetic, of the levels and striations of consciousness, one would, ought to admit to the following:
Since the form of the event, or the activity in which we find ourselves on coming-to-consciousness, is visible, is perceived, then where ought we to enter process, out of the initial imbalance, or from the recognition that, yes, we do perceive ourselves in-the-midst-of being, or out of what is seen initial as a suicidal drive toward blindness, and the assurance that the latter is inevitable is not lightly considered, though such turns out to be the case with the force of recognition and with the realization that Blind is what one is.
THE ATTENTION: as one comes to see that his attention is directed, may devolve to medium-fascination, like photography (personal experience). One may fasten upon a detail, to some remain hypnotized for the remainder of conscious life. Or one may admit that one has suddenly come to a difficult transformation in his total development.
Thus, for instance, the momentousness of the word, in our voice-flesh-act term, that has one feeling his body in speech, vibrating like a celestial drum, what song! One is still reflecting process upon act, rather than one-in-one, or speaking as act and process, as thing done, one committed, and thing described, "I am at peace" as utterance (sequence) and fact (state).
The relation of this to that: Whorf: "...that all observers are not led by the same physical evidence to the same picture of the universe."
Though if one Were universe, at the start, voice might penetrate out from the in, into the actual event, one might be heard in the other

voice outward,
one, self) ====>> the//actual

The view, or vision substantiates. What one sees is not peripheral.

THE NEW, Harold Rosenberg.
If there is a transit where to? And "what is it like", but no other? Qualities of taste to be discarded, but how and what of succeeding generations, if I abandon what is good out of what I remember about the other (the pleasure, for instance). Especially if this transit is inevitable and we bear no cues, at least to recognize when we have passed certain boundaries, when we have passed through, for instance, the successive phases of derangement into something resembling indifference, will we not still be cruel? To which one applies to all notions of self regulation; out of biology and into the spiritual with that....
So, one attends gradually to the shifts in his own attention, to work some self change. One sets his acts out like pieces of force. One receives crisis information, states of complete metabolic emergency, like the philosopher's "continual revolution".
Though finally one meets the physical father and sees the other as cause, as symbol, as truth.
Mother of acts, which receive their force, the world.
But to see across to this as even possible, hardly as valuable.....

"That don Juan's control is the power, we can't allow ourselves to doubt. Good is control" (Navajo/Gladys Reichard) as power is control, out of the literal, to see it thus as power of self to be in control of self: Odysseus.
Not the hero, but the way it comes about. "Hero", the same reflective consciousness, un-included in his acting. Hamlet, no, but Odysseus in his acts, how they are caused in where, in what they take the shape, of flesh and blood, you suitors.
No, but that the voice is spoke out into the real and that the flesh is one with the head.


****************************************

THREE: THIS:EVENT INFORMATION SEPARATION

...as against what we know went on, the dream: the dream being
self action with Whithead's important corollary: that no event

is not penetrated, in intersection or collision with, an eternal
event
The poetics of such a situation
are yet to be found out.
Charles Olson, Maximus V, the opener, January 15, 1962

* * *

nonsense
insense
outsense
As one becomes the many, to get there an image in its very constituency, as parts, as metaphor for seeing. The degree to which cultural preoccupations persist is personal.


THERE IT IS, or Spring:
has a ruffled edge,
the sap. Flow or turn out, as light escapes, toward
the new. Had a rough edge to it,
winter thought.s

Water-bell ing, the boy in the corner of the picture,
with the ocean flat out, rising up behind, in the picture,
the sun coming off the surface, though no detail of waves lost.
laid into a zone of response.
Cause separated from Event.
or, feeling: be it a stone, or wishing.

How he finds it possible,
and to have it there,
tonguing into the earth,

where she splits & cracks,
& boils up & spits,
& not with fury,
& even, how she is in that,

& gets out & in again, to make the center point
& wall.
Celebration of the event.
Straight line In & Through, as movement/as activity,
followed,
air and air whistling through the trees,

NOT: closeted (in the house,
directly,
& in thought behold as it came off
To weld, in / direct / ion, had said,
But particular, A : a
on in.
Shield, progress-ion

* * *

Meditation and Response

continual vectoring of new information /
Retrieval notes: commun-al-ist / "commune-ism" /

The rough edge of time resolves outward, into close range: attention stands, and memory holds ==>> through into the new, or laws of serial space, of being phenomenally "in-the-world" as a glyph of being, THIS UTTERANCE / the very I am of being, such as it is spoken, this thing, man, that I am, in word in language spoke, and said, of being one in things / so: outward, that begun and interrupt that it is as spoke, as serial thing, act through event
"the eternal event"
Right?
coming-mouth, and right on in, to touch, her, where she starts up, wet and well, tongued-in, and eyes open to her navel, and penetrated deep, like a hot depth.
She waits (aside, of consciousness, to get motive out, as an open choice, that thing which sends us out after death, and toward some separate and special beloved, and that is what opens up before, and this is the cause of the specific in the one. As a close recognition and special, too, that it comes of course (as a course is set, out and straight for it), to register the terminals of sensation in their proper (pro-prio-ceptive) context.
Of course, and the reproducibility of the mode in others to certain degrees (of specialty of performance), the event that is, comes to be seen as whole-ly significant; that is, "what am I doing" yields event, as conscious focus, and me, thus, here, at "verbalizing" and "energy" that is, in display of both: precisely that, and, tho, manifesting language. "We are constantly manifesting ourselves", Roshi tells us. Though he is what he is before that, before anything else, and that is the voice in operation, set out right against act, toward, but in being, my friend, in and of con-jointly.
The where "of space", signifies and rightly, where style presupposes (out of vernacular considerations), content: though that should be made more concrete: it is demonstrable that ego and self define "locale" differently under national/ cultural/ propagandistic circumstances, that is, against the enemy, material, known, falsely palpable essence, "the real." Like Ibsen & Wagner, as against the Wen Fu and, perhaps, Pound; where even Baudlaire's eclecticism is constantly informed by the essence of what he is, contradicted, even. Which is the definition, and the form of it, out of which one grows toward reason, out of repetition and accumulation. The trick is, here, of thresh-holds and biological-maturation points, like Dr. Montessori did for the kids, to chart out the ages of consciousness peaks, cf. developmental, and to get for those same offspring, an anticipated sequence of acts which is not tampering but responding to observation and the instinct to be of assistance, to help; so the question about new information and consciousness comes about for this: how do we place the tendency (toward torpor, you said) toward engagement, not choice, but the awareness, in act that, yes consciousness did engage, did reflect, yes, by (whatever)(eg. serial), means, by that mode, but it did that, did.
Yes, one remembers in the way out of (into) sequence. The mode of outward.
The image, or illusion of, preceded, how, out of, where, the neolithic? And that relation to the activity, not entirely ecstatic, and sometimes vernacular and fold, of the vision made sacred, which we usually as, now, "American Indian Art", sequentially photographed, with crude material-objective text accompanying, a material act, surely, that "way" of the book, even in those solid terms, cultural (MOMA:1948). And alterable, and possible, that is, likely, and advisable.
The notion, there, of advised action for purpose, or acts-out-of-value.
"He does not think anything is the matter with him." (Laing) Reductions of attention, such a schizoid behavior, the very image fades before response to it, that is, of coming back on the consciousness-of-consciousness into further acts. Nothing diffuse, here, that any manifestation of purpose or interpretation of (the) said, as owing to a motive for existence, and reflection is that-which-is. What is one talking about, then, is one simply aligning speech and time into some personal pace which is actual, is that song? The ear gives word its ocean.
The excesses of kitsch and the vulgar are, is, the imitation of taste: matter and intelligence separate into act and cause, from what is whole to what is a reflection, that is the of the literary or the erotic. And to turn to that and out into responding is pleasure. The told. Lived in and touched.

* *

Or, devoured, that is the message of the past, ouroboric devouring, us as whip-tail, bent around, the tail looking in, the eye ahead of the jaws. Demon teeth, dragon-sown, harvesters of the fields, silence to that, too, where it lasts out beyond time and its intermissions into the open realm. And distinguished there, as stasis-space, no movement, nor death, but nothing else, either, it has sagged open, perhaps Auden's term; the photographs will do, in combination with other things.
And "what am I doing" is swimming across from the one to the other, having birthed-out, and now, half way across, casting out. Swimming.

the form of it, then occludes / there is, in that
version of seeing (through form to event)
indirectness where it is meant, & in the term
term of it, from Response to the Contra-
dictory (against diction, or speech), silence,
then, the dichotomy. The second-glance,
that is of observation is what kicks
it through, the line through the
double-vision of the intellectual,
which is right, the line into any
mysticism is the continuity of time
into which each act penetrates.
There!


Arlee, Montana, 1972
7771