The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

November 29, 2001


of the considerate

consider just for the moment, for the play of words; as if this were
written in linux, i'd go back already and change everything in the world

this isn't a poem, literature; this is a request; consider just for a
moment, for the play of the moment, the benefits of mass destruction

elimination of every man, woman, child, on the face of the planet

stranded astronauts

even miners going beneath within; the violent disease-bearing clouds of
radiation flooding; consider this, the benefits for all of us - the end of
all information and media; yes, now we can theorize endlessly about this

there are vast curtains in the sky, they are slowly closing

in one or several centuries, in millennia, things growing, clawing back,
like it was, nearly like it was

almost a model of how it had been, but something not there, something on
the order of furious perception

nothing, perhaps a rock or stick or stone; nothing, perhaps sand or mud or
bark; nothing, perhaps a vine or clay or branch

health upwells from the submerged womb of the planet; almost health; now
we can theorize endlessly; then, we shall be silent; then, we shall
declare nothing; then, neither relative nor absolute, neither defined nor
erased, neither subject nor object

not even the tiniest name; but a glance, a knowledge of determination;
among friends now

consider just for a moment no human alive; ideology, pollution under
erasure; value always already the result of a past posterior of
absolutely no account; there are no ruins; an enormous planet; sunrise
sunset; lunar phases; storms of infinite night and day; comets close to
the presence of sound; storms

we may sleep tonight in comfort recognizing the curtains; they close from
above; they close from side to side

we may sleep dreamless, just for once, just this very night

before the stage recedes, from the presence and gathering of the world


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