More Notes

From my 2007 notebook:

I can give you a more direct communication from my pen than from my mouth.

Everyone thought her beautiful, and yet she always wondered why it was that the leaves always burst with beauty as a prelude to their deaths. Before they fall, brown and completely devoid of life, they leapt in celebration, flowing red and orange and golden and yellow on the branches enveloped by an autumn gust. This, this was beauty, and it was beauty awaiting death. If others thought her beautiful, what was she awaiting?

Notes and Notebooks

I'm going through a box of old notebooks right now, trying to mine them for potential new poems that could grow out of old ideas or visions.

Instead, I've come across all of my Heidegger Language... things I wrote when I was right in the thick of his Phenomenology, when it permeated my everyday. I miss those days.

September 22nd, 2006

"I woke up today thinking of Heidegger, wanting to write down my attunement -- my being's disposition upon awaking from a dream. I'm having a difficult time, however, between all classes and responsibilities that I feel my soul is divided and portioned off to everyone but me. I do not hold stock on my own time, currently. I can't find the small notebook that I used to keep by my bed last year -- maybe I can wake up a few minutes earlier in order to write down my dreams or early-morning thoughts. My attunement at the current moment is almost shying away from the world which is forcing itself upon me in such a forceful way. Something is out of balance. So much is protruding from the background vying for me to dedicate my attention to it and make it a figure. Gestalt! Give me time. I don't have the room, the focus, or the sanity for all these figures to co-exist at the same time, and they are forced to my attention. Let me cast my eye on that which catches my attention, not that which demands it. My attunement in the world is a state of overwhelment. I shy away and retreat to day. The world is too aggressive right now."

"Deleted IV"

Explode 

in

expectant hope:

Christmas.

That,

or a kind of grieving.

"Deleted III"

You

I

I tell myself in the final moments,

I will try to find 

the words I have

forgotten.

"Deleted II"

The icicled air

and

hours of sun

change is the snail

across the front step.

Our own trails are longest, we, for whom

the only wounds that cease to hurt

are self-inflicted.

Only too often

we bear

but hide

our own.

All we have are fragments.

Perhaps another final line?

Converted churches.

Lines deleted from my poetry:

'Deleted'

For days I

wait

dormant instead.

When 

it is so

a choked sigh

poisoned every next moment

and, 

when I saw you last, 

the weight 

of an intimacy with doubt.

Heidegger, what are you telling me?

When you want to, you can be incredibly obscure, but then that's the point of digging in mines, isn't it?

"  True, as we look through Being itself, through time itself, and look into the destiny of Being and the extending of time-space, we have glimpsed what 'Appropriation' means. But do we by this road arrive at anything else than a mere thought-construct? Behind this suspicion there lurks the view that Appropriation must after all 'be' something. However: Appropriation neither is, nor is Appropriation there. To say the one or the other is equally a distortion of the matter, just as if we wanted to derive the source from the river. What remains to be said? Only this: Appropriation appropriates. Saying this, we say the Same in terms of the Same about the Same. To all appearances, all this says nothing. It does indeed say nothing so long as we hear a mere sentence in what was said, and expose that sentence to the cross- examination of logic. But what if we take what was said and adopt it unceasingly as the guide for our thinking, and consider that this Same is not even anything new, but the oldest of the old in Western thought: that ancient something which conceals itself in a-letheia? That which is said before all else by this first source of all the leitmotifs of thinking gives voice to a bond that binds all thinking, providing that thinking submits to the call of what must be thought."

From Time and Being by Martin Heidegger

We already know everything we need. 

Now all that is left is to remember it.