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Of the Day

Today's Quote
  • Voltaire
    "To hold a pen is to be at war."
Everything After Z by
National Geographic Photo of the Day
This Day in History - HISTORY
Today I Found Out
Audio Poem of the Day
  • Poem of the Day: Parturition
    I am the centre
    Of a circle of pain
    Exceeding its boundaries in every direction

    The business of the bland sun
    Has no affair with me
    In my congested cosmos of agony
    From which there is no escape
    On infinitely prolonged nerve-vibrations
    Or in contraction
    To the pinpoint nucleus of being

    Locate an irritation            without
    It is                                           within
    It is without
    The sensitized area
    Is identical            with the extensity
    Of intension

    I am the false quantity
    In the harmony of physiological potentiality
    To which
    Gaining self-control
    I should be consonant
    In time

    Pain is no stronger than the resisting force
    Pain calls up in me
    The struggle is equal

    The open window is full of a voice
    A fashionable portrait painter
    Running upstairs to a woman’s apartment
            “All the girls are tid’ly did’ly
             All the girls are nice
             Whether they wear their hair in curls
    At the back of the thoughts to which I permit crystallization
    The conception                       Brute
            The irresponsibility of the male
    Leaves woman her superior Inferiority.
    He is running upstairs

    I am climbing a distorted mountain of agony
    Incidentally with the exhaustion of control
    I reach the summit
    And gradually subside into anticipation of

    Which never comes.
    For another mountain is growing up
    Which          goaded by the unavoidable
    I must traverse
    Traversing myself

    Something in the delirium of night hours
    Confuses while intensifying sensibility
    Blurring spatial contours
    So aiding elusion of the circumscribed
    That the gurgling of a crucified wild beast
    Comes from so far away
    And the foam on the stretched muscles of a mouth
    Is no part of myself
    There is a climax in sensibility
    When pain surpassing itself
    Becomes exotic
    And the ego succeeds in unifying the positive and negative  poles of sensation
    Uniting the opposing and resisting forces
    In lascivious revelation

    Negation of myself as a unit
              Vacuum interlude
    I should have been emptied of life
    Giving life

    For consciousness in crises          races
    Through the subliminal deposits of evolutionary processes

    Have I not
    A dead white feathered moth
    Laying eggs?
    A moment
    Being realization
    Vitalized by cosmic initiation
    Furnish an adequate apology
    For the objective
    Agglomeration of activities
    Of a life
    A leap with nature
    Into the essence
    Of unpredicted Maternity
    Against my thigh
    Tough of infinitesimal motion
    Scarcely perceptible
    Warmth           moisture
    Stir of incipient life
    Precipitating into me

    The contents of the universe
    Mother I am
    With infinite Maternity
        I am absorbed
    The wasisevershallbe
    Of cosmic reproductivity

    Rises from the subconscious
    Impression of a cat
    With blind kittens
    Among her legs
    Same undulating life-stir
    I am that cat

    Rises from the sub-conscious
    Impression of small animal carcass
    Covered with blue bottles
    And through the insects
    Waves that same undulation of living
    I am knowing
    All about


    The next morning
    Each woman-of-the-people
    Tiptoeing the red pile of the carpet
    Doing hushed service
    Each woman-of-the-people
    Wearing a halo
    A ludicrous little halo
    Of which she is sublimely unaware

    I once heard in a church
    Man and woman God made them
                                                   Thank God.


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