Cold Old Bastard Months

After such knowledge, what forgiveness? Think now
History has many cunning passages, contrived corridors,
And issues, deceives with whispering ambitions,
Guides us by vanities. Think now
She gives when our attention is distracted
And what she gives, gives with such supple confusions
That the giving famishes the craving. Gives too late
What’s not believed in, or if still believed,
In memory only, reconsidered passion. Gives too soon
Into weak hands, what’s thought can be dispensed with
Till the refusal propagates a fear
(from "Gerontion", T.S. Eliot)

After such knowledge what forgiveness? After the wholeness, after the loss of the wholeness, what forgiveness? After the removal, the narrow escape, the forgetting, what forgiveness?

January's a cold hard bastard of a month. Death-bringer. Celebration-Faker. Blood-sucker. January. Old hungry half blind hounddog flea ridden scavenging beast of a not-thing. January, January. January I'm glad you've gone. After that coldness what forgiveness?

Gives too soon into weak hands

The timing is all off patterns are being copied and replayed but everything is a copy of a copy of a copy and I am stunted in this simulacra world in the variations of the same once good idea now dead the moment is gone and the vibrations are morphing and bursting if you watch close enough but the copy of a copy of a copy of a moment that was once and is not now is counterintuitive celebration-fakers are copying copies of copies of wholeness of perfection but that wholeness is done and packaged needs to be jumped off not copied and copied and copied chart old patterns but make new rhythms history has many cunning passages, contrived corridors weak hands grabbing and clutching their copies of copies of copies mass blood-suckers mass Januarys in the guise of brilliance you are empty and empty and empty reconsidered passion you are copies of copies of copies refusal propagates a fear but you'll never refuse each other you copies. You old hungry half blind hounddog flea ridden scavenging beasts of not-things.

Think now she gives when our attention is distracted