Poems for Monday


Within a certain moment, like now the wind and rain are falling somewhere. A small drop in a cloud of fog, my mind is broken, she’s gone and I always remember who killed her. Who put the rope around her neck, Shoshona, you were a friend and you knew as I what is to come. Our minds broken open like eggs, scrambled for knowing before them. Not like we had a choice. Curse my brain, curse it for the pain. I’m tired and cold, and tonight is just another night in Nazi Babylon. Where there is no empathy for the waters or for little Jewish girls hanging from ceiling fans.

The New Weathers

“The sum of a field’s forces [become] what we call very loosely the ‘spirit of the place.’ To know the spirit of a place is to realize that you are a part of a part and that the whole is made of parts, each of which in a whole. You start with the part you are whole in.”

— Gary Snyder

Surrealism these days might be the only way to penetrate it all,

To give it to you as a coherent whole, as a gift, wrapped in a bow,

We know too much, have reduced Her to bits, one’s and zero’s,

Disembodied, and lost, yet we’re here, you’re right here, right now,

In this place, embodied, breathing air that I once exhaled, air’s old,

The co-rising and interconnectedness of the multiverse, you and I,

This poem came from somewhere, a dream channeled into here,

Into this space, behind a screen, bleeping and pinging, on and on,

This is all a dream, a simulation, I know too much about very little,

Chemistry, atoms in resonance, with you and I here we breath,

In and out, surrealism is dream language and an archive portal,

You can see my memories of facts, and traces of lectures and slides,

That’s all gone now, I’ve got my dreams and my memories, DNA, RNA,

Proteins, and the force fields that guide the way they move and shake,

In reality, in you and I, it’s elemental, there are not a hundred elements,

There are four, earth, water, wind, and fire, this is not a delusion, illusion,

To know the parts, and assemble a picture here, in this space take these four, Combine them in alchemical ratios in your mind, that’s all there is, you,

Little I and/or Big I, it does not matter, to know the spirit of place, to meditate,

That is to realize that you are a part of a part and that the whole is made of parts, Each of which is a whole, you start with the part you are whole in,

For me these four fragments of the hundred, an ancient trace,

No longer a chemist, from now on it’s alchemy and alchemy alone,

It’s not experiments, it’s magic and transmutations, I start where I am, whole,

That is here with this page, and traces of light and dark on a screen and paint,

Paint a picture freely of dreams, and of conscious fragments all bouncing around,

In and out, flowing as words, the wilderness of archive, decolonized mind,

Hive mind, the matrix, wild minds, grids and mappings, I don’t see them,

Every trace on this screen I see through to the human on the other side of the desk,

I listen to the voices, this is a real place, a real space and it is here that I live, Surrealism may be that Jack Kerouac School for Disembodied Poetics,

Gritty and dirty language obsessed with details of pain and suffering,

Only to point up and in, into you and into the sky, only to drop the screen,

To penetrate what is all quite simple, just four elements combined in ratios,

Our weathers, brewing and storming, coherent and fluid this is magic,

Only that alone should you see, here in this place for now, but wait and sit,

Tomorrow will be another day, the friend will call you, and you will drive home,

You will dream, and I will dream, of what only you know, Big I, that master,

The master alchemist in the sky, an illusion of words, but one to pray to just the same.


In the future, Future will sing a song about blood on the money,

Women will float disembodied along streams in bikinis, posting,

To Instagram, photographs of their breasts and live in silicon,

Silicone, a reality that I find strangely transhuman, inhuman,

Was this what was foretold by the prophets long ago?

This age, or the one to come where we, alone and alienated,

Fight each other’s advances we fought so hard to cultivate,

With makeup, appropriately hot attire, perfume, and flirations,

You want it my love, I can see, but as a moth to the flame,

You do don’t know what it is, this fire, my love, I don’t want you,

I don’t want you aflame, or hot for me, not one bit, be reasonable,

Be careful, and be aware of the realities of playing with fire,

You who float down the stream, my sexy Matrix denizen,

It’s fascinating to sit on the river bank and see an aging boomer,
Float by, at peace with the havor she has wrought, working for IBM,

Engineering our doom, hacking our dopamine circuits, for fun,

I can swim with swans in this stream and court animals,

The droids stand in awe of my ability to swim with swans,

Yet, it’s not all the same, as this stream has many fishers of men,

…and women, aware of the greater things, like those two turtles,

Making love on a tree overhanging Barton Springs, or a dragonfly pair,

Embracing in the air, like I would do with her, but she’s not aware,

It’s not possible to contain flames of fire once you pour gasoline on them,

So run away, afraid of what you’ve done, go to your next victim,

…and keep on running away from reality, or the moment, for it’s all you have,

To be there is to be God, able to create anything in the moment, fire chaos,

No One likes chaos in the Matrix, it crashes servers, and hacks bank accounts,

We want walls, for without them war would ensure, like this match made in Barton Springs.

About kayaerbil

I am a Berkeley educated chemistry Ph.D. who is moving into the area of working on developing appropriate technology for communities that are subjected to socio-economic oppression. The goal is to use simple and effective designs to empower people to live better lives. Currently, I am working with Native Americans on Pine Ridge, the Lakota reservation in South Dakota. I am working with a Native owned and run solar energy company. We are currently working on building a compressed earth block (CEB) house that showcases many of the technologies that the company has developed. The CEB house is made of locally derived resources, earth from the reservation. The blocks are naturally thermally insulating, keeping the house cool in the summer and warm in the winter. Eventually, a solar air heater and photovoltaic panels will be installed into the house to power the home and keep it warm, while preserving the house off the grid. A side project while in Pine Ridge is a solar computer. I hope to learn about blockchain encryption software for building microgrids. In addition, it is an immediate interest of mine to involve local youth in technology education.
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