One witnesses an event, and later describes it to others

At maximum occlusion, the lunar eclipse looked like the gummed, vestigial eye of a cave fish

Interrogation presumes the suspect’s guilt

At maximum occlusion, the lunar eclipse looked like the unshiny, scrimmed eye of a red snapper stacked on crushed ice at market

Steve Reich was going for the middle ground between mathematics and literature

At maximum occlusion, the lunar eclipse looked like a magic marker circle, smudged as the hand that drew it moved across to draw something else

At maximum occlusion, the lunar eclipse looked like the stained paper towels beneath a colander of washed cherries

One needs not describe a quantity

Merce Cunningham said “The eye tries to recognize what it already knows”

A solar eclipse is spectacular; a lunar eclipse, technical

One’s mind does not by default seek relief from repetition

Reich’s music describes nothing; John Cage’s establishes a negative capability for description

3 is 3 regardless of what it counts

One is inclined to believe a quantitative statement over a qualitative one

A confession is the only possible ending of an interrogation

The original word for an irrational number meant “mute,” as such numbers could not at that time in history be expressed

Sound requires a medium but light does not

Barred owls open conversation with couplets of “who cooks for you?” but then carry on to chaotic monkey cackles and howls

The Voyager spacecraft exited the heliosheath into the heliopause

In some contexts, 3 might be nearly 4, and in another context essentially 0

Emily Dickinson wrote “Eclipses suns imply”

In rounding, one can be said to look past a number

Fish do not fall

just went to an artist's talk and kept dozing off

the heating oil cost $965

she expressed her frustration with that conceptual heisenbergian problem, that photographing the authentic thereby renders it inauthentic

i couldn't tell if she was sincere because she was very busy expressing her desire to be sincere or seem sincere. writing that, i feel a little mean toward her. but it's hard to not find all her work and words to be smoke obscuring either a lack of sincerity, a lack of content, or both

at some point, one has to take a photograph. everything's literal. there's no reason to be afraid of it

i am a little afraid now to run the heat. if i use the oil, then i will have used it, and will be that much closer to having to pay to replenish it

or. one could just look around

i think, though, that you can get neither grants nor degrees for that

there's that meanness again

it's 54degrees inside

work's not supposed to vanish, is it?

light cannot round a corner

questions do not just happen out of you

at night, i can see many suns

the snowflakes clot and plummet like barges

the woman with silver hair seemingly hewn seasonally; pearl earring evoking a control button; heavy shuttered eyelids, triple thick and accordion bunching like chins; soft freckled jowls shuddering opposite her vehement headshakes as she disagreed with her companion

alex wanted to shoot the snow

some simple photographs so i can see what i was looking at

unison fails

on the bus, trying to answer if sound envelopes contain something or are just metaphorical, perforated by boisterous undergrad conversation all around

blackberry man walked into trash can

they measure the acoustic properties of the churches by firing a gun in them