No subject
Mon Sep 28 13:31:41 CDT 2009
So, I might be more sensitive to the weather,
To call its airing a forecast of how I might feel,
A speculative reminder that I have yet to react to it.
How is the weather for you, today, here and now,
When mighty winds blow coldly to water you tonight?
You might be laughing and dancing in glee,
You might be hidden in soft furs or home, abed.
I could never know nothing of your weather.
That would be true, but it is not true enough.
I never know anything of your weather, too.
I know nothing of any weather from its forecast.
Weather is only another condition of experience
And never singular enough to be a sole determinant,
For weather is something only taken as a beginning
And not given away like a prescriptive predication
In prediction's forecasting of conclusion's foregoing.
And then, I heard someone tell of ever bigger weather,
A weather that is far too big for that infinite.simile, me.
He called up great spirits of regional and global weather,
Like refined universal turquoise recoloring itself beige.
A mystic says that if we could see the whole thing,
As if at some one moment, take it all in by one glance,
then we could see its light -- might judge its color, so.
A global climate might change its global color,
Like a chameleon, or shed it skin, like a snake.
But what do such reptilian reductive averages mean to do?
Am I mean to mean weather by such reductive means?
Am I caught in this, just so -- do I live in some mean-tos,
Like purpled lean-to shacks in browning shanty towns?
I know what white weather is like for me, but not for you.
I do not now what red weather you are having today,
But I have seen some red flowing out upon brown sands.
We hope to have green weather next week or on a near day,
But yellow and blue weather would also be fine for me.
And, punctuate that with some gray, some black weather.
Give me a rainbow, before colors fade and waste away.
Thanks for listening,
Donald L Emerick
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<DIV>Anti-Climaxim Complains</DIV>
<DIV> Of Color Discrimination,</DIV>
<DIV> Or Weather Equalization,</DIV>
<DIV> As Consensual Inhibitions.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>I know when I step out of doors,</DIV>
<DIV>How weather comes home to me,</DIV>
<DIV>What it means to be hot or cold,</DIV>
<DIV>Wet or dry, still or blown, day or night.</DIV>
<DIV>At least, that's my objective delusion.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>I come to think that the weather --</DIV>
<DIV>The one that you mention on the air --</DIV>
<DIV>Is the weather that happens to me.</DIV>
<DIV>It seems so much like representing the true,</DIV>
<DIV>That it would be true for all as for you.</DIV>
<DIV>Subjective illusion seems pointless, in fact.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>So, I balance for illusion and by delusion,</DIV>
<DIV>As this pointing to you or me, alternatively,</DIV>
<DIV>As ground on which this or that posture stands,</DIV>
<DIV>For this pretence and by that offense of weather</DIV>
<DIV>Which is yours and mine when together,</DIV>
<DIV>And should not ever seem different then.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>Shared time means shared space,</DIV>
<DIV>Shared space means one place for two,</DIV>
<DIV>One place means only one essential being,</DIV>
<DIV>Regardless of how those parts may number</DIV>
<DIV>When they may think to divide themselves,</DIV>
<DIV>One by one, subtract themselves, remove being</DIV>
<DIV>From beings, become remote, distant, distinct.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>So, I might be more sensitive to the weather,</DIV>
<DIV>To call its airing a forecast of how I might feel,</DIV>
<DIV>A speculative reminder that I have yet to react to it.</DIV>
<DIV>How is the weather for you, today, here and now,</DIV>
<DIV>When mighty winds blow coldly to water you tonight?</DIV>
<DIV>You might be laughing and dancing in glee,</DIV>
<DIV>You might be hidden in soft furs or home, abed.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>I could never know nothing of your weather.</DIV>
<DIV>That would be true, but it is not true enough.</DIV>
<DIV>I never know anything of your weather, too.</DIV>
<DIV>I know nothing of any weather from its forecast.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>Weather is only another condition of experience</DIV>
<DIV>And never singular enough to be a sole determinant,</DIV>
<DIV>For weather is something only taken as a beginning</DIV>
<DIV>And not given away like a prescriptive predication</DIV>
<DIV>In prediction's forecasting of conclusion's foregoing.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>And then, I heard someone tell of ever bigger weather,</DIV>
<DIV>A weather that is far too big for that infinite.simile, me.</DIV>
<DIV>He called up great spirits of regional and global weather,</DIV>
<DIV>Like refined universal turquoise recoloring itself beige.</DIV>
<DIV>A mystic says that if we could see the whole thing,</DIV>
<DIV>As if at some one moment, take it all in by one glance,</DIV>
<DIV>then we could see its light -- might judge its color, so.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>A global climate might change its global color,</DIV>
<DIV>Like a chameleon, or shed it skin, like a snake.</DIV>
<DIV>But what do such reptilian reductive averages mean to do?</DIV>
<DIV>Am I mean to mean weather by such reductive means?</DIV>
<DIV>Am I caught in this, just so -- do I live in some mean-tos,</DIV>
<DIV>Like purpled lean-to shacks in browning shanty towns?</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>I know what white weather is like for me, but not for you.</DIV>
<DIV>I do not now what red weather you are having today,</DIV>
<DIV>But I have seen some red flowing out upon brown sands.</DIV>
<DIV>We hope to have green weather next week or on a near day,</DIV>
<DIV>But yellow and blue weather would also be fine for me.</DIV>
<DIV>And, punctuate that with some gray, some black weather.</DIV>
<DIV>Give me a rainbow, before colors fade and waste away.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>Thanks for listening,</DIV>
<DIV>Donald L Emerick</DIV></FONT></BODY></HTML>
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