Below are some of his philosophical thoughts and affiliations presented as poems.
Teaching Philosophy
We will take as our
text Sarah at Gus’s
examining herself
in the glass. She
notices you walking
with a new friend,
a girl you met
on the bus, and
for a moment, both
on the sidewalk
and in the reflection,
you and the girl
walk behind her.
See her search for
a general definer,
find conflict more
appetite than event;
Sarah hears her
sister calling
for help. She
talks the Resident
Councilor into
checking all
the closets.
Since she hates,
let her hate
authority; Sarah
brings guys back
to her room.
Some are checkers
of closets, others
may be channeled
any which way.
The R.C. spots a
Zyprexa in the
downstairs toilet
and notifies Sarah’s
parents. Read
affluence, as she
watches herself
in the glass, is
conflict’s antithesis,
just as the antithesis
of anxiety is comfort.
You find that girl
you met on the bus
is not who you thought;
Sarah’s parents are
off to
wish the staff luck,
which like conflict
is enduring anxiety,
as affluence is
enduring comfort.
Sarah turns to Ryan,
the depressed kid with
spikes everywhere,
and although they
slept together the
night before, although
he approaches as
a microscopic thing
in a sea of tenderness,
she crashes and
screams back to
her room. We may
have shared a
reflection in glass,
but our toll on others
remains secondary.
Maybe an hour later
the
Unit arrives. As
when a pretty girl
got off the bus
at your stop, a
new guy steps out
of the van, and
Fred, the one who
sometimes smiles.
Manifesto of the Atemporalist Insurgency
The mirror in the mirror is the mirror in the mirror.
We are still human, wheel within wheel. Time
is eternity’s shop floor. Eternity is time’s tokenism.
Learn from the suppositions of great cowards—awake!
Those outside of time sing with the voices of the holy dead.
The cog knows sameness of expressions is not sameness
of feeling. The pendulous need only sway. Fools will
call, “Time out!” As we know, those allied with time
are sure to die. We call, “Out!” Those opposed to time
are already dead. Individuals will be confronted with
what they can neither renounce nor achieve. We recognize
all temporal measures are drastic, uneven, unfair.
In plotting its approach, retreat, and utter stagnation,
the four Williams of the apocalypse proclaim
reality is indivisible. Ulysses never left home.
Mohammed loved disloyalty. Christ was neither
body nor spirit. Life never suffered death’s imposition.
The wrapper tears—awake! Search, research, and
comprehension defy syntax. As bureaus of investigation
find their navels everywhere, discipline is a dog’s
hind end—other dogs will sniff, but men and women
disdain not merely the stooping. Nations and institutions
refine and restrict fictitious bodies upon which are
inscribed the sign of Augustine. When is not where, and
plot the salad fork to the left of the dinner fork. The eye
is the wheel. The apocalypse surrounds us beyond
the wrapper. Proceed blindly. Proceed with caution,
because you carry the apocalypse wrapped in string.
The eye is both here and hear. The wheel rolls over
the crust of a dubious truth. Accept the illusion of
“Dinner at seven!” wryly. Drink water and be reminded
of the fates of the multitudes of counterrevolutionaries.
Though you often feel confused and drowsy, speak
reasonably. As the first William’s “He did not go in
eagerness,” “He comes up the lane fast,” and “as a loan
and used it though he would not have had to” occur in
the ambiguous distance wherein perspective falls to
barrier psychology, analytics fall to perspective, and trust
in ubiquity is scarce—Augustinian time is here.
As the second William represents the fall which
never occurred and exists in perpetuity, Augustinian
time is here. As the third William admits, “I went in
too deep water,” and admits, “I went into deep water,”
and in both instances, “Trying to get home,”
Augustinian time is here. Augustinian time, the eye
in the wheel, sequence and collapse—as one hog
waits for another, we await the fourth William.