The Ghosts of Jay MillAr (6 page)

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Authors: Jay Millar

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BOOK: The Ghosts of Jay MillAr
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undercurrents of sweetness and noise and the flora and fauna cannot exist

anywhere else

where you yourself cannot bother to pretend

Some Notes on Bird Songs

3) THE BIRTH OF LANGUAGE

The History of Language does not exist. However, it shall

continue to be unborn at the exact moment that any member of the

species comes into existence. How could you ever hope to study

something you are? In the House of Language there are many who

hope to speak with such purity and will talk into their graves.

Fly away now if your wings must be so heavy.

l) HOLOGRAMMATIC LANGUAGE

Language is holographic by nature. The written word is in fact the spoken word presented in a three-dimensional, spatial, format. Thus the wavelength of each letter used to make up a given word in its entirety is also the smallest ‘slice' of that word necessary to recreate the hologrammatic image. The ‘meaning' (stored memory, or learned information) appears to be stored ubiquitously throughout the cerebral matrix of language rather than in the interrelationship between the separate letters/notes. Language is the birth of hallucination. Flashcards to improve your writing. A clock in the shape of a dolphin. You should see the birds.

2) CHEMICAL LANGUAGE

As ‘serotonin' enters your mind, it travels down the spinal chord, and enters the many wings of the body, at which time
                                                                             comes to mind and hovers before thee,              hoping to open the twenty-six windows of perception in a seemingly random order. This is where a single spirit can rest on the larger, resulting windowsill of the mind, looking in two directions at once. Written to improve your flashcards. This dolphin should tell you the hours. You could be the birds.

4) EVOLUTIONARY LANGUAGE

mutation golare. (as it poens in th hoystri of th spiceis it connat be pecfert, thus it stum nad deos loces in th furtue [persnet, if sene form the pats] so much differently), who era th brids? flacshards era wrettin to tell th time, th livse of th dilphons are eras in nimd.

Fleye

8) TELEPATHIC LANGUAGE (INFINITE LANGUAGE)

7) ROMANTIC LANGUAGE

Because Language is the bridge between bodies, (a light swoop upon the air) that hoop which houses the mind, it is a bird house, whose sexual wings are perched upon those branches. It should be made clear that this language cares nothing for orientation, gender, age, species, or race. It is exactly what it is like to be with another person. If you call the right notes, someone is there who can answer

0) DEAD LANGUAGE
1

In many archaic languages, the words for ‘to not exist' are best

translated into present day English as ‘without the word' or

(see
TELEPATHIC LANGUAGE
)

6) FUTURE LANGUAGE

Time is the most difficult medium through which to communicate.

This makes any attempt to predict their songs

A Short Review of Birds

Birds can be far more interesting than people sometimes.

Today, in fact, as I pore over the lists of confirmed sightings

I made years ago in the backwoods near Tilbury Ontario,

birds seem less capable of an outright violent attack in any

language, One simply remembers a shape among the leaves,

and it is never the bird in its entirety, a thing in itself, but a

suggestion, an attitude that leans toward the whole. Their

unusual forms of communication always correspond directly

to individual shapes, a series of objects open to interpretation

instead of a defining mechanism through which facts are stated.

They are a war with no violence, a peaceful tribe who carry out their

discussions for the benefit of all without any attempt to triumph

over their delicate presents. It is certainly a natural enough position,

for the voice of a carnivore becomes as important as the voice of

the small berry eaters. Thus no one is afraid to speak. It is

comforting that each species can exist in order that it might be

heard alongside all the others rather than against them, and

similarly, that each song or cry made by any one creates a wildly

varied universe in which everyone gathers in bunches separately

causing an overall effect similar to that of a community of writers.

Lysdexia in Sunlight

what mournful singing

in the happiness of change: they

beat their drums across the cloud-lit skies;

by calling out our names

they are assured of an answer in their wingspan

a note quite high, (not sounded at all within that realm)

something you can hear uttered just in front

of the beak, to layer existence before the sound

itself appears, a priori, but so what:

their benign overwhelming attention

can only be explained by

Mind, not by the songs they sing.

After the Rain

After the rain the stink of the lake resides of the lake.

The good clean stink in the the back of my throat.

After the rain one can until anything can happen.

And stare at the wetback surface sit perfectly still.

When the glass of water becomes the glass of water.

The only think left to think:

After the rain nothing can ever sit quite through it.

When a bird goes so still as the sky.

‘Gull sit on lake fine.

And it's after rain.'

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