“Finding an adequate language
for post-anthropocentrism means that the resources of the
as well as the tools of critical intelligence, need to be
enlisted for this task.” R. Brandotti, The Posthuman.
Cambridge UK, 2013. p.82.
Bear paws pressed into the earth, a small plane roars behind
The bear is no longer there. The plane remains unseen. Existence
a "doom loop." Moment after moment disappears
like an open
When we learned to coax dreams into images, we thought we
how shamans flew into their levels of being. Not seers
as much as healers,
would not answer questions, such as,“How many
levels of reality are
on at this moment?”
was heated and shaped into domesticated earth. Then,
on her skin with red ochre
and walked toward the rising sun
words that had
never been spoken before.
oldest of trees stand in mythology. The biblical trees
of Life and Knowledge;
Yggdrasill, from which
nine days and nights; and the Cosmic Tree at
center of it all. Its roots spread through the
underworld, its branches
the sky. At its base curls a serpent, and a bird with
folded wings sits on its crown.
snake is the convolutions of Anthropo’s reptilian
brain. The bird is perched
atop the staff of a therianthropic man painted at
Lascaux more than 12,000 years
ago. "He, dancer
abyss, spirit, ever to be born. / Bird and perverse
will your reality be when your nervous system
is no longer sympathetic?
After millions of years of evolving various forms, organs,
will human flesh be happy with a digital pulse in place of
Will the impulses of electronic prostheses entrain “the
sustainable ethics of
the phantom pain of an amputated limb? Or will
cybernetic implants have no causal memory, no positional
history, no sense
of an eternity beyond itself?
it was because weeds had risen wild as Gaia
conducting heat from
the planet’s fiery
viscera to its lively Critical
Zone that a man who looked like
Po Chu-I walked past
me shouted over his shoulder, “Read the original!”(3)
skirted foamy tide sliding in with clumps of salty
weeds, sandpipers running
for worms, as a “fishapod” emerged
from the sea into oxygenated air.
as to where and what it was,
it turned and wiggled
too turned and walked back, to the parking lot. In the
distance, someone was
looked like a long stand of petrified
early morning sun paints an empty sky with fresh
blood. Where yesterday
I had to
wade across, today I’m
walking on rocks thirsty
for what doesn't flow
The wild is what slips from under a microscope,
the quantum level there is nothing that is not related
to everything else.
Meaning, then, is humanity’s
most elegant contribution
to the universe. A
balanced in the morning
mist, it carries the mystery of
whose circular being hums
itself into existance.
the humpbacked fluteplayer, Kokopelli, Anthropos plays
in the bulge
of its brain “a language of substance
which cannot be taken substantively.”(4)
is not only thick strokes of vibrant paint that make
crucial in our time, but also the artist’s
stubborn toil under a glowering
Would an intelligent computer suffer
rejection by its peers when
the qbits of its brain?
In 2015, tools were found that were dated
to before Homo sapiens became
a distinct species. With these tools they
walked into a world that
been conquered by humans, yet remains unknown.
No GPS to guide me through this jumble
of stones that looks like a corpus
callosum connecting a binary feral
mind, last year a bridge
was built over
this chasm. Heavy lengths of squared
wood were carried up steep
the backs of young men, opening
a new path that loops back
to the old.
Paleolithic cave art may have told
stories that, when the environment
and some of the animals painted
disappeared, inside they continued
twist, and prance across the
walls. Were these paintings
religions whose stories
originated in environments that no
longer exist, we don't know what
they mean beyond the meaning we give them.
the sun warms the horizon, I put on a sweater, and
is easy. But “Becoming-imperceptible,”(5) while
instant celebrities, takes
the smell of water that's sunk beneath earth’s
gritty skin, plants
reach down. Their
roots are drying;
the mountains, too,
As we cannot speak for
nature, can we learn
to speak with nature?
a lion could
talk we would
understand him,”(6) fall
within the probability
an AI system
art could be made by cyborgs programmed to compute
causes, in which the present is the future appearing
to be in the past.
Then what can’t be known will be for sentient
beings to dispute.
I climb the river’s embankment, from a jumble
of rocks the arm of a dead plant
reaches out and catches
my foot. I fall backward while leaning forward,
“Just think how amazing! Someone getting up and walking /on
muse: You can’t walk on water, when the water
is gone. Theology
is becoming ecology.
and Janus-facing Earth’s
limited resources, in an
we only have a limited
we refuse to recognize the duplicity
morning I wondered how I can live in a world whose
changes are exponentially
Not in, I realized,
someone who may at any moment be grabbed
and digested by a flesh-eating plant. As the
sun grows crops and cancer, this forest
is living and decaying.
How could they have
painted with such acuity unless they embodiedthe animals
they were drawing in dark oxygen-deprived underground
depths, where bestial
fat danced in stone lamps, “animating andaccentuating surface details that would
soon return to darkness.”(8)
Now we tap algorithmic
codes onto smooth backlighted screens, glowing flights
of artificial intelligence with the “incapacity to
discern the secret humanity of non-
artists, subsuming their imagination to sampling machines, ask
questions of the wild
racing across the walls of Paleolithic caves today?
beneath its parched skin, this river can
no longer write
an original word. Knowing this I can finally
address my teachers.
R. Char, From, “Dead Bird-Man and Dying Bison.”
2. R. Braidotti, The Posthuman. Cambridge UK, 2013. p.90.
3. Po Chu-i (772-846) was probably referring to, “Five
Spring Poems by Po Chi-i.” J. Weishaus, trans.
4. J. Hillman “The Therapeutic Value of Alchemical
Language: A Heated Introduction.” In, Alchemical Psychology.
The Uniform Edition of the Writings of James Hillman. Vol.
5. Putham CT, 2010. p.16.
5. R. Brandotti, Ibid.p.137.
6. L. Wittgenstein. The Wittgenstein Reader.
A. Kenny, ed. Oxford, 1994. p. 213.
7. A. Ginsberg. From, Galilee Shore.”
8. J. Clottes, What Is Paleolithic Art? Chicago.
9. D. Danowski & E.V de Castro, The Ends of the
Cambridge UK. p.73. “To say that everything is human
(as many indigenous peoples do) is to say that humans are
not a special species, an exceptional event that came to
tragically or magnificently interrupt the monotonous trajectory
of matter in the universe.” p.72.