Every color the eye can/not see

2 December 23
Both things are true

Slipper at the bottom of the stairs
There,s trout in the fridge

Last night I read until my eyes hurt, things about being born in the shape of a container of love. How can we be well amidst catastrophe?

At the garden on the corner
rose bushes and jade. There are flowers that look like teardrops, where the hummingbirds sleep. I imagine so, any way. Each time forever, to see one is a gift. The same was true growing up in a sugar-water May, a red, yellow balloon-striped glass feeder in the window. Red plastic lillies through the pane. Come to us :: here, California, they seem to be everywhere.

The public broadcasting station, one in New York, is airing an extended program about hummingbirds as part of their semi-annual fund drive. The narrator tells us they live only in the western hemisphere. Over gazillions of years their beaks have grown into the shape of a flower. Ice cream spoon. The flowers, too, have adapted, and together they are a machine. Nectar in the stomach, pollen on the crest of the skull. Later, the computer told me that because of the feathers’ iridescence (Greek:: Iris, messenger of the divine), on a hummingbird is every color a human being can see. And uncountable others., mystery beyond our understanding

I found myself this week reading an essay about intimacy and the concept of the surface — have I already talked to you about this? Through the prism of time is projected a triangulation of the real, the unreal, and our own experience of these forces. Everyday life, ideas, and the cage of the body. We are constantly moving through converging realities, this collapsed locus that Tavi Meraud calls the really apparent and the apparently real.¹

The part that perhaps haunted me the most:: the idea that this engine of the production of reality has shifted, from the immediate and the discursive to the realm that is located in the screen. In different words, the computer is a project of reality-distortion, a portal to an elsewhere that positions us neither here nor there.² Instead of reality moving between the planes of the conceptual and the material, we are consigned to a third no-place, neither fully within the object nor its perception. And so becomes ever more pressing, the task of preserving human-produced realities.

I wanted to tell you about the dream I had last night but I keep forgetting it. As soon as I try to create language it disappears. A rat in the trunk of a tree., like the one I saw alongside the park as I looked for [””””””””””””””‘”‘”]

Should I even tell you this? It’s not that I fear naming it would cheapen it, it’s instead that I fear this will be eas;y to misunderstand. And then I remember you told me there is power in not being afraid of being misunderstood. And so:, I was re-reading a book given to me by someone I love, a book that always opens the gates of my heart, and then I put on Sibylle Baier and that one song about passing through the leg-high grass played and I began to feel the way I do when I am in the blue dusk. Surrender to

And everyone is singing, singing and praying but everyone is happy because geologic time continues and brings with it inevitable changes. And this is one that they like.
‘<“”,,//,<,,&=<…
I am

There is a hummingbird trapped in a kitchen with an open window. Cups and bowls of sugarwater :;; drink up

I feel better after telling you.
I am peeling cumin leaves. Soon they will be swallowed

War, war, and rumors of war. This is what people much older than me say the world is. It is possible that we’ve all been born during the war.

But it’s not war right now, it’s a campaign of erasure :: dispossession of ancestral lands, censorship and genocide. We are once again facing reality’s forked tongue. This historical moment is one of a complex viewing geometry, but not because of what is happening exactly in Palestine. The devastation is clear, the morality politics even more so. Instead it is made complex because we in the united states, those that hold citizenship, are taxpayers, are left to square the contradictions between these simultaneous planes of reality :: what we are bearing witness to half a world away, and the relative comfort and security of our lives here. As we have long known, but is continuously revealed, the stability of american life comes at the price of the safety and well-being of those who live outside of the core of empire. Our dollars and cents paying the postage for the bombs. We cannot turn away now. Everything remains true all at once.

Ceasefire now. May we live to see a world beyond colonialism. Sovereignty, Peace, understanding, decolonization, collective liberation and the world to come ,,, And May we here, in the decaying united states, know how to strengthen the ongoing work to build global solidarity, to birth a planet rooted in justice, love, belonging ,.. to bridge the reality and the dream

Everything I tell you is true. This is my greatest hope

Works cited

1. Tavi Meraud. Iridescence, Intimacies. e-flux journal 61 (January 2015): 138-162.
2. Lynda Barry has said as much, in an interview in the *** **** Times: The main thing about the phone is that you’re no longer where you are. You’re no longer in the room. You’re no longer anywhere.