Where poetry is continually becoming through the poet, the poet is home and calm and reflective for there is Nõthing else to do.
There is Nõ esssay to write and Nõ compositions to complete and Nõ thing to do but write Nõ poetic essays and music.
Here the world spins no faster than Language becoming through external textual expressions of Nõ and Nõ thing.

"Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place.
If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!" (Carroll, 32).

And if a Rose had a consciousness of self and other would it speak to us of being a Rose?
And does it not already speak to us of being a Rose or is it purely our imagination if we were to hear it speak?
Does the River talk to us? Does Nature speak to us?
Perhaps not in our language of 1010101 but it speaks to us in our imagination and dreaming awake
perhaps that is all we need to know where Daesin (being-in-the-world) and imagination live.
Here language is becoming in the evolutionary dream ... and there is an interstanding between the Railway and the Rose
that is only ours to ponder. They may never speak but surely there is an understanding that only Raven could comprehend.

On the way to writing this Nõ Book i ride on Nõ Train. Soon i'll be up Simms Creek with Nõ Paddle.
These pages leave my hands ... they are given to you ... and where i left off with Language you continue
as listening and soundmaking is a resonance between us where sign and signified are the meaning(s) / means of Being understood/interstood through ... a common echo ...

The meaning is their common intention, and the spoken phrase is understood
only if the hearer, following the "verbal chain" goes beyond each to its links
in the direction they all designate together (Merlau-Ponty, 8)

With bodies on the tracks, underneath and overhead, with all those who have lived and died upon Railway Lines of forever i too am living and dying, writing as i am riding / writing with all the others who have ever loved a Rose.And like any other Blooming idiot at least i am Blooming.

The mind-ground contains the various seeds,
With the all-pervading rain each and everyone sprouts.
Once one has suddenly awakened to the sentiency of the flower
The fruit of enlightenment matures of itself.31


PAST . . . A tale begun in other days, When summer suns were glowing -

PRESENT . . . A simple chime, that served to time The rhythm of our rowing -

FUTURE . . . (From Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There )