Poem for the month. "eddy" [+ some gulls and ghosts]

[Click to enlarge. Text retyped as approximate as possible.]

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eddy- over a pivot, tumble: "ed´ë" n., v.
[alteration of Middle English ydy, from Old English
ed, turning + ea, water, or Old English ed, again,
Greek eti, yet, still, Sanskrit ati, beyond, very]
1. A. when from force coursing through volumes flumes
a counter; countering shove, the rent heavy in tumult and
tethering the broad curving flow so sweeps
back its outer edge drawn in while the inner
slips into a concave depth bending
around itself and down
a twisting axis
to a point
searching expense
in sway; or,
B. when from force coursing through volumes
flumes a counter; a countering shove,
the rent heavy in tumult, tethers
across the seam and drawing counter,
a chopping across, against its own tumble
plunging shallowly down and
backing out into a hung up,
softly lapping slack.
2. a cultural countering press
or static slack.

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Daniel assigns his friend Lohren Green's book, Poetical Dictionary (click to buy off amazon), in his Rhetoric 10 class; that's where I read it. It's damned smart, especially the stuff around the entries. From the introduction: "A gesture, an envoy, a conceptual avatar; the law, an electron, votive incense, a dart; a glassy bubble or a star--these are only a few of the possibilities for what a word can be. Rather than strip words of their variety, this Poetical Dictionary flexibly structures their heterogeneity. Like a coral reef, it gives the living standard for a system of multifarious life, with individuals that wheel and flash before its calcified lattices, with currents tangling in spiky bulwarks, with mimicry, poaching, and smelt, with dark shelter for soft bodies that show only an unblinking ogle of an eye. Here words are not so much defined as they are depicted in a kind of informed portraiture, a conceptual calligraphy, a combination of lexicography and poetry--a lexetry that knows the style of information, the viscosity of concepts, the atmospherics of these sonic cum tropic logics that we call words. (Even the lexicographical purist will have to admit that purple denotes its own style of prose.)" Every move announces itself, comments in every direction. It's poems as spaces. (Duh.) It can get cute, and purple, yes, but its contortions make sense; I wouldn't have any word, any design, any empty page different in any way. Lohren wrote his dissertation on Nietzsche, which fits, since to talk of words is to talk of metaphors is to talk of the poetic ("this Poetical Dictionary").

Also, things keep bubbling up and pushing me. I'm banking on shucking those tethers, though, as the year flies by and I start packing boxes; there's another pool to wade in ahead.

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Have you noticed how many bloggers have nodded towards Eloge de l'amour recently? There's something in that ether-net. I've kept my Netflix disc at home for over a month. I can't let go. Fitting. Here's some sites similar, but different, from a some thing (that I will mail tomorrow) about gulls and ghosts, presence and absence, making the flight of digital a tangible reality where all kinds of happenings tug and pummel one another, where the concave bends itself across the seam.