Words 2 (or Colors 1)


Effect (cause) to You,

blue might mean
everything you ever Knew,
to be of that color.
what do I know?
Tell me, world:
Is my blue your blue?
Then you do,
tell me, that is:
“My blue is my blue,
Your blue is your blue.
There is some overlap, and
Let’s leave loss of meaning out
And not make people bored with blue;
Bluebitty blue blue beautiful hue too”
“fuck you, world.
I love you.”
The word is blue, the world is blue
But words and worlds are representations,
 (Ordered permutations of letters with:
 a rule here,
 a rule there;
Arbitrarily assigned, defined
using other…Sounds…)
Blue is a word.
Blue is a world.
Here we might mention the association with mood and music:
I’m blue
Not that music.
I thought only cows mood.
Blue cows, mood bad;
There must not be enough…
What is blue?
What is you?
“Arbitrary de(-scription,
Who are you? (Hoo, hoo…)
Who is blue?
“Bad answers come from(?):
bad questions.”
Why are you blue?
Why are you you?
“Now we are making progress,
It’s a process.”
Why are you?
Why is blue?
Evo-(b)lu(e)-tion, baby.
it’s intuitive to the human brain,
invoking the action of eyes ‘seeing’ as their sense
(Lens focuses light towards retina,
 where photoreceptors are so excited to find their photon friends in their correct color cones, and instantly send the sensational news through neural networks as an electrical signal for processing and imaging)
(permutations of photon particles doing the wave, so-to-speak, and if blue then on the short end but visible, moving at the speed of, well, light, or say c)
“You like this word: permutations…”
Math is ART(hur Cayley):
Every group is isomorphic to a subgroup of its symmetric group.
Worlds and words and worlds of words.
Why do we see (c)?
“How much time do we have?”
What is time?
“Not again…”
Ah, why is time?
“Flow, change, progress…”
Oh, my.
 what might 1c, optimistically?:
Looking up at the sky,
Why, it’s blue! Why is it blue?
(Why, always why with you…)
A scattering comes across the sky…
Note same scattering in a blue eye.
And if the sky is blue that day,
If pollution isn’t in the way,
There’s no blue like the ocean.
Blue on blue, blue in blue, blue of blue
Meeting at the horizon.
You’re makin’ my dreams come blue
Or if the day chooses to be gray,
not content with fractal boarders providing limfinite complexity,
overlap to darken the sky,
raining on our blue parade.
On those gray daze,
blue is a collar,
 fuck color:
blue is the name of the train line some sorry sucka takes to work every morning,
and, (worse?), the converse
(from work, to some (un)affordable apartment, nothing like a home…
Nothing like Home)
Or the color of the tie seen on a ley line down the boss’ beer belly.
The blues.
Same as it ever was.
At this not-home,
To partners in misery,
Or to misery’s offspring,
blue might be a bruise:
Alcohol’s common collateral damage.
At its worst, blue is the glint of cold steel flashed before entry into a belly:
 Or blue smoke from a barrel
Real and rising,
Up, up, into that bluest sky…
(Don’t look down:
there, in the outpouring blood:
a tinge of what?)
At its best blue is the beginning of life, home can be up high if we
Stay grounded
Cause (effect) to
Blue is

String Theory 1 (or dimensions 1)

One and two and three and six permutations on three ok we’ll put the three with the twisted super-thingy compactiplexificationing it to flow in four

(can we do that?

WE will not be doing anything the doing is already done we find the representation we’re almost there)

and how many we got left? 6? Shit, ok right four in six makes ten why ten again? Open and closed strings right right but which six? What do you mean which six? This isn’t a choice it just is so it’s the six with the sillystring superthing like seven with the four so eleven…

Now we are making progress



Words 1

On Critics

The spellingest grammagicians endowed with:
greatgrandmastery of the Summary.
And a nuclear-grade arsenal of Bullshite
with enough megatons of ennuinium and ignorantium to bore the beauty outta this
Magnifulgent Whorld.

I say unto them:
words do what I tell them to do…
if et doney sond roight,
go left or
eff ya ken sayit wit a small nummer of weirdz,
then why not you kan shurassyell hell-it badder by
dooblin’ an’ tripplin’ yer wordscore (count?).

four the moor the marryher in diss greyt a-more-ica.


Movie Pitch (or On Hollywood Part One: or On Global Warming Part One)

one night some peepsicles got super stoned or fuuuuh-uh-cked up or one morning selfsame interchangables were hungover as zee ballznutz and a spirited black woman with Afro-jamaicislandonesian roo-hoots (used partly for her voice and partly cuz I see MuthaNature as a brilliant, worldly women right?) was like now that Earth is like nuh-uh you ain’t turnin’ up my thermostat wit’out a lil’ ray-zisstance and consequators; nuhh-uhh, by da contrarian you gon’ melt dem’ uber ice cubitty glacial muthafuckas then we gon’ see dat true power. Which inspired the white guy (sorry but we males don’t always have the right answer no?) to suggest a waterworld reboot in that half-ironic half-jest half-3-deep-in-da-drink-half-maybe-waterworld-was-just-ahead-of-its-time half-too-many-halfs (sic) way that people introduce themselves to others via subverting the subserviating lameness of a sub-tle referency-joke to a universally belovetreasured cultural symbol. The General Communication-yo Major of the Multiverse teleports in to ‘PR and brand’ the shit outta that shit catalyzing a world-shittering event when she declares her strategy to godify the whole affair. The Noah connection thus becomes self-evidentially waterworldlian.