"I love quantum physics so much.... I just think I'd be calmed by the solar flares."

A friend on wanting to see the Northern Lights

Paroled Fable Thieves Intro piece (TJ & Kristen Tomanocy)

We live in this house of language
This cathedral
of oratory masters.
this castle of tradition
dug with fricatives and dipthongs
poured meaning through these sounds in order to cement stories
My bones never mortared themselves
for Aristotle's corinthian mantle foundation
but they hold up the rafters
while hinged lungs from the past sing back and forth
with every door we open and close in the hallway
my tongue drags along the doorknobs
wanting to taste every story with these words
starving for the ferment of cellared ancestry
I taste the spilled blood like iron in the hinges
my shins hold up the dinner table
plattered with a history of every noble hearts evocation
so listen
when you live in a house created by the
howls of human need, extending the limb of language,
a lost tongue in a shadowed cave of a mouth
you feel the echoes of your next door neighbors
So stop sitting down
stand
Raise a primordial scream like a battering ram
because the labored breath of
these creators is rattling through us.
demanding to be heard
We can own this.
Read this.
Channel this.
Lyric this.
Love this.
The words of our people typewrite themselves
through our toes on this hardwood floor.
write this. write this. write this.
Move like you have been given
the chance to construct stolen sonnets,
we are nothing but thieves in this mountain of crumpled pages
oragami masters
adding new folds from our own experiences
delivered through our breath as a gift
to decorate anothers barren dwellings
Because when you inherit this beautiful, ancient
temple of a house
all you can do
is listen to it.

Un-Friended by my grandfather!!!!!

My grandfather, also a writer, sent me this after i posted the link to the first anthology of the Intangibles "Static: and Other Lungless Things" on his facebook page.



Awesome!
if you want to see what i posted on his page to elicit such a response, visit here http://poetcd.com/index.php?item=285

Upcoming shows........

Tuesday, Dec 8th
Binghamton, NY
the Premier of .........






De Saussure’s concept of ‘Parole’ deals with concrete, actual instances of a language and is not concerned with grammar, syntax, and rule. As torchbearers of the oral tradition, we acknowledge the embodiment of the story in its moment, concerned with being over meaning, making each performance unique. Nothing new can be said, but it can be presented in new ways, and is; Every time something is performed.

Closing Paragraph from my undergrad philosophy thesis on archaeological theory....

My only concern as we set out on our path of self-discovery through the past, inching forwards towards a more comprehensive understanding of our beginnings is that we will exhaust our data, our ability to find and excavate new sites before we can reach a honed and accepted method of archaeological discourse. A place where different fields of thought, theories, and data will all work collectively in critically tying together the threads of our past into a tapestry of learning and achievement. We should view Archaeology as archaeology. Borrowing from other fields as seen fit in the course in inquiry, and acknowledging new methods that can be checked and appropriated in a proper place with regards to our biases will enrich all of our endeavors.

Eros and Arson

I watched her gently pull a camel non-filter out of a half empty pack as if she was an archaeologist, uncovering some ancient relic to be viewed by mankind for the first time in millennia.

Delicately placed it between clenched front teeth and grinned as I leaned forward with my lighter.
She leaned back away from the flame, paused, and said with a gleam in her eye,

“lets just burn the whole fucking thing”, one eyebrow slightly raised in a challenging manner

“what,” I said, “this bar?”

She leaned forward again, kissed her cigarette to the flame I held never breaking eye contact, inhaled, took an infinite second to savor it, and shook her head, wild mane of brunette hair sweeping over her shoulders as she exhaled.

“all of it,” she said, “you, me, us, the system, all of it”

I smiled back slightly, quietly wishing it was the bar she wished to engulf in her fire.
The ease with which all of this alcohol would ignite and spread made it an acceptable thought process, something within my realm of possibility.

We were silent for a few thoughtful drags of our cigarettes, my free hand gently massaging her stocking covered thigh, sliding under the hem of her skirt.

I suppose it was too late to turn back.

Yes, we were already prisoners of this world… but here, with only us in this closed bar, we were defying labels, redefining intimacy, love, passion, and comfort without conscious attention to our actions and repercussions.

But I never thought myself capable of destroying these socially cemented notions that chart our course in the world. I only checked them like a jacket at the door when we stole time alone here, never forgetting to collect them again as I left.

Our cigarettes finished, she stood, stepped over and pressed her body into mine, seeing if the friction of our heat could melt us, could spark raging infernos that would reduce society around us to ash,
and her lips gently caressed my neck as she whispered,

“this is whats real, and it can never be burned or destroyed”

And I watched her saunter out the door, back into the world, no baggage of labels to pick up as she set off to set the world ablaze.