brought into position and it comes down to waiting whether there will be enough log-ins to detonate
Had I provided the explosives with a timer, then it all would have become a bit too predictable. By
programming them the way I did, it is not certain that they will ignite and certainly not exactly when. So
today or tomorrow is an equally reasonable expectation as is never.
Each program has slightly more than one million numbers that must be brought into line with each other.
This is almost impossible, but with the heavy log-in traffic that is going on, it can be done. Maybe the next
user is going to be the decisive one.
The combination variants within the programs of all three charges follow different sequences and even
when they will go off, the chance that they will go off at one and the same time is extremely minimal. But
even then it is of no consequence; the fortuity of the moment has been build into the design and the
material evidence will destroy itself. Question marks will remain and it will take a rare individual to come
to the conclusion that an occurrence, that in every detail suggests a natural phenomenon, in fact might be
the result of a culmination of arbitrary technological connections.
2 It feels good to be where the material is. If only one can focus one's eye. I mean the eye that can see
behind the perishable. If it is focused. Does one know what one will dream when one goes to sleep? Thus
I don't know what I will see when I focus this eye. Hoca Poca Pass is my name, let's leave it at that;
I find that quite funny.
Should I keep my eye closed because I don't know what I will see when I open it? Making a clean hit is
the only option. If I do not hit it clean then I miss it. And do I miss it then everything before my eyes starts
spinning. And then the lights go out. Phaff. Can last for three minutes or for three hours. I live without
clocks. The sun comes up, the sun goes down. This is what I stick to.
3 Isolation cells do not scare me off. In my case I must be prepared to roam periodically in a vacuum.
No problem, as long as my movements are not disturbed. Vacuum is, therefore, not to be understood as
without fresh air, but as without fresh stimulants.
That is why it is a good thing that I like returning again and once more to expressions that are no longer
fresh, but are still performing excellently. And every day, naturally, a main dish for the firm foundation.
Some stretching and taking a few deep breaths works wonders. Putting the plug into the large battery for
a short while and the foundation is taken care of.
With some choice volumes of verse my stock of love-morsels will last years. Artistic expressions I hold on
to can be entertaining when I need relaxation, and synthesizing when I need effort. Thus one travels light.
Which in my case is not a bad thing.
4 Our culture gives expression to what is perishable. To time itself and to space itself. The moment in time
that is now and the place that is here. Entering into an engagement with this culture is entering into an
engagement with the temporal reality.
A poem can be stimulating. For the physical constitution as well as for the mind and for the mood.
However, especially for one's additional data. One's natural extensions. The same for a picture, a song.
And all other forms of poetry. This is the word I use for all the artistic expressions that, simply by
originating from the metadata of an organism, appeal to the metadata of an other organism. Materialized
inspirations, grafted upon the now and upon the here. Which is different than just giving expression to the
time and to the place.
Like the wind gives expression to being wind. Now entering into an engagement with this wind is entering
into an engagement with the timeless reality. An engagement with the trinity past-present-future, for
5 I have unlearned to be too explicit about my work. The more I give away, the greater the distance
between me and my fellow-humans. So with regard to my position I cannot afford this. It took more than
one day for my position to turn into what it is now. Investments I cannot justify with just a snap of my
finger. All my data are in agreement on this. So that is nice after years of imploring. Tranquillity in the tent
of Hoca P. Pass.
6 Everything I do is subordinated to my goal of losing myself in clarity. To periodically exist in a state
where I can totally open up to inspirations that precede the dark. And then allow my hands to invent things
in cooperation with my brain.
This gives me quite some pleasant surprises. Combinations leading to solutions, compared to which my
drafts expose themselves as banally simple. Sometimes only because the sounds of the different elements
pull toward each other, or the sizes, or the shapes. These are beautiful moments. Heralding a journey I
travel with pure delight.
And the results. Impossible to trace how many experiences, observations and thoughts have preceded.
Those dissolved. An inspiration has been materialized. As in these three who now await explosion. That
this can cause a ravage is naturally logical. But most do not get this. They sell themselves short. Ravage is
the consequence of order. Order is the consequence of ravage.
7 The technological achievements of my culture I keep as far from me as possible. If I take an interest, it
is to be able to give my poetry a material presence within the available cultural spaces. I prefer to do as
much as possible by hand and as little as possible with handy gadgets. To become the extension of a
device seldom suits me. Instead of going about my business in a relaxed way, I must interrupt my activities
to spend the time I supposedly won on a rest to regain my balance.
Of all the devices I have worked with the computer is top heavy. Five hours a week. And I have had it.
8 Those who keep on wallowing in their own messes will never be able to communicate with poetry. And
only as an exception will they be capable of making poetry. In a trance. Isolated eruptions. The rule is that
someone like this produces expressions that have meaning for none but the fellow addicts. Fixed delusions.
Excluding and rigid.
Fixed delusions do not vibrate, but illustrate. And thus enforce the illusion of the living conditions, how
these are being projected by the culture. In my culture contact with the metadata is not a part of the
concept of reality. Whereby communication remains out of reach. What I understand by communication.
And that does not exist thanks to fiber networks and satellites. What I understand by communication has
a connection with love. And thus is connected with the durable.
Poetry is a manifestation of creative energy being active, or having been active. Poetry is a
nonexplanatory manifestation of the inexplicable mystery. A manifestation of an individual. A reflection
of an individual.
By touching my hands. With the fingers of the one hand trace the bones of the other hand. And so feel the
flesh around them – muscles, nerves, veins and meridians – separated from the skeleton. While doing this,
in a very easy way I am being brought in contact with the inexplicable mystery.
If the contact is established by poetry, a dramatic factor is added. In poetry, a particular individual reflects
from a terrestrial awareness on a particular life. An individual moment. That always is dramatic. A
moment that has a link with the beginning and the end of this life. The quintessence is not the specific
circumstances of this or that individual drama, but the fact of an individual drama. Whether the individual
drama can be felt in it. Such an artistic expression can bring about joy. Or gives solace. By an encounter
in poetry with the fate of an other, one can gain insight into one's own fate.
9 Also knowledge is a durable energy, with which one can enter into a relationship. One can tune to
wavelengths that give one access to a countless number of points of contact, that are available apart from
time and place. Unclassified wisdom, vibrating freely through the cosmos.
I see talent as a meta organ. It has a function in a metabolic process. Vibrations are the raw materials and
an artistic expression is the result.
Because of my specific talent I can be confident, that if I do not have a connection with some knowledge
or other, I also will not find the form that represents this knowledge. What is true for an organism is not
necessarily true for an artistic expression. Every organism gives evidence of knowledge. Is an expression
of a durable energy. It being the perfect form of the knowledge that is being represented, is what makes
every organism sensible. This is beauty. This bird is the expression of her being bird. And the sound of
these waves is an expression of this sea. Form and content cannot be seen separate from each other. And
if this is as obvious for an artistic expression, then that artistic expression is poetry.
Mastering cooking potatoes is not the same as mastering knowledge. As any energy, knowledge is a
transmitter. And just as no vital energy whatsoever can be appropriated by another, no knowledge
whatsoever can be possessed. But everyone can have it at one's disposal. Once one's antennae have been
tuned to what one's right wavelengths are, then it is only a matter of operating the receiver. Not difficult.
But one has to have the right interior design.
That is why my interior is designed around the existence of the dog. My receiver has a small range and
before I knew the dog I was accustomed to a lot of hazy static with an occasional bright patch.The
antennae of the dog are higher, wider and of a fine tuning quality. By being near the dog I can co-enjoy,
because the happiness-generating fact presents itself, that her antennae turn out to be tuned to the
wavelengths that happen to be the right ones for me too.
10 The poetry that I make are explosives. I place them in such a way that the force of the explosion is
proportional to the emptiness of the space. Normally, nothing that is vital is present in the center of the
explosion. Seen objectively. Over someone's subjective motives I have no control.
It is not easy to find spaces where I can put down the explosives. Over the years constructing them is a
job that has become easier. While over the years placing them only became more difficult. The more
sophisticated they are put together, the bigger the havoc they can wreak, once they go off.
Because one does not see the state that the recipients find themselves in, to me this going off is only of
moderate interest. One's doings, thoughts and moods remain in the dark to oneself, as long as one's
different data have no open channels between them. When one's terrestrial awareness has no contact
with the durable. One's natural extensions. And it will be impossible as well, to come even close to
interpreting the how and the what of the doing and the not-doing of any other. As long as you have no
insight into the durable, or as long as the other has no insight into the durable. There have been people
I only came to understand, after their very last moment of life. Only in their dying phase, all the channels
opened up. And only then the puzzle exposed its secret. Only then did they allow themselves to be known.
11 Experiences with my work have prompted me to develop a number of routines. Methods that function
without fail offer me a nice kind of quiet. There is blank state I have to exist in regularly. To stay open to
the inspiration. That can give direction to a meditation that can result in poetry. The blank state of the core
activity, so to speak. Or where the material is. When I roam there. Then, concerning the practical, I stop
having any awareness of the most ordinary affairs. What to eat for example. So that it is necessary to
have in the closet the food that after thorough experimentation I can rely on. Do I not have the basic
things in stock, then in my blank state it just does not come into my mind to get even the simplest item in
the house. It just is completely out of my system. Because such a blank state is blank, precisely because
I disengage myself from every habit.
In addition, there will always be the moments, during a process of creation, in which I have to make an
effort to keep all attention focused. Like when I lose the clarity about what I am doing. Or the moments
when the purpose eludes me after all. Or the starting point. Concentration devouring unrest. Intensifying
this need for an order that has proven itself. A number of examined ingredients which are easy to
combine. Varied. Compliant with the seasons.
12 Because quite often I am being questioned about the backgrounds of my poetry and because I have no
conclusive answer, I outline the actual context. In what is perishable I have separated myself from my
backgrounds, as my backgrounds in this reality sphere have separated themselves from me. This involved
a process of mourning that I sometimes go through in ritual patterns. But if I do, it leaves me rather
13 I do not mingle with colleagues, this is how it turned out. Because I distanced myself from educational
programs at an early age, I have no common student experience with anybody of my generation. And
there is nobody of the previous generation who, from a teacher-student relationship, launched me as a
protégée. My study primarily executed itself through information I obtained from books I took from boxes
at street stalls. A meandering line. So that my poetry enters into a dialogue with references that can be
four centuries old as well as two days old. Not until I was rooted in my profession, I realized that, despite
the individual character inherent to my line of work, there are courses that are the accepted ones. In order
to arrive at a position that can be classified as professional. So that a number of material facilities become
available. Mine has not been one of those, but for me it is the only imaginable route. Given my data and
the circumstances of the early years of my life. Startling, the start a baby might choose for itself.
But although I have not been introduced to anyone and no one has called on me, my poetry has been
reviewed in the professional journals. By experts who, by this or that agency, have been appointed to
either dismantle or reconstruct them. The first when they were discovered earlier than planned, and the
second when they were discovered after they exploded. I stopped following these considerations. They
are so much beside the point, that all my potential pleasure is being stifled. By now I can sleepwalk the
way they reason. In their view, the past is decided on. And developments can only grow out of this
I was not familiar with this trunk and I started with a seed. And later, when I did have the information,
I very well saw the similarity between this trunk and the fragile little trunk I was fostering. By the way, by
looking at my poetry they acknowledge that there is a kinship. They acknowledge that my poetry is part of
a tradition. Is affiliated with it. A professional tradition I call mine. Although the accepted guardians of this
traditions use all that is in their power to keep me and my poetry out. I have no doubt that somewhere in
their computers there is a file on me. For internal use only and probably marked with a code red.
These guardians are people, and the way I see it is that there have been people who tripped me up
viciously. Measured with cultural standards. And those people I will never forgive. While in natural terms
these same experiences and their consequences are mine and mine alone.
14 When it comes to speaking my thoughts about my life in general and my poetry in particular, I only
exchange views with confidants. Also questions of anonymous people who are interested I think are nice,
and those I answer by email. Whatever the question, as long as it relates to my work. If there would be no
questions I would miss them.
To date I have not been confronted with a question by which my standard of discretion was violated.
15 It makes little difference to me what electronics I have in my music player. My hearing is alright, but I am
not focused on those qualities of music that are being affected by the type of playback equipment. Very
few equipment fascinates me to the extent that my body fascinates me. I like the fork I use for eating, but
if I happen to use a different one, it will have a minimum effect on my wellbeing. While one wrong sip of
liquid or a sip too much liquid and my system runs amok. To me the organism I am is more fascinating
than any machine. I am finely tuned, more so than the poems I place. I am tidied up, more so than the
house in which I stay. Not that I need the world in my immediate environment to be sterile. On the
contrary. I can very well handle a natural dose of chaos. If only it smells nice and produces no noise.
This is also valid for my poetry. A natural dose of chaos. And explosions outside of hearing distance.
16 If I am working. Occupied with the first phase after the core activity. I work in sessions. A lamp above
my worktable has been connected to a timer, that I can set per quarter of an hour. When I start I push ten
pins and the light going out is the signal that I should take a break. It is possible that I go for a second
session on that same day, but never one exceeding five pins.
After such a work session I lie down with the dog on our couch and go feel whether I feel my cheeks.
And I stay down until I feel them. It is a rule that initially I only feel my left cheek. And by concentrating
on my right cheek I manage to get both cheeks in balance. This may be accompanied by shivers in my
sex. Which will be stronger depending on whether the right cheek is more numb. When the balance is
there, the shivers have vanished and my sex again is a quiet presence. And all cultural achievements
I have in readiness again.
17 When I do something natural I lose the time. Or the time loses me. This has my attention. Fo me, being
occupied with poetry is a natural activity. Especially the core activity. Through my nature I have contact
with nature, whenever I exist in the blank state.
Through my relationship with nature I am being strengthened. So that I can be open to the culture that
surrounds me. In nature I find confirmations of the way I am in my life. Confirmations I rarely find in my
culture. If in the tradition I come across an artistic expression I experience as a confirmation of my
sensibility, then more often than not this comes from a culture that is not mine. But even so I am being
strengthened by this. Also in my professional field.
Whether or not one's insights touch the truth, gets a yes as soon as one comes across evidences of a
similar insight. Manifested by fellow creatures, regardless of artistic expression, period or geography.
18 Through the dog I have discovered a very special source of language. Through talking to the dog
I heard my voice speak phrases that fascinated me. The special source can be typified as a space where
there are words, but where there is no voice. I enter and my voice speaks the words I find there. Or that
find me there. Phrases that nestle in my memory and that came to me from outside. The dog stimulates
me to again and again repeat these words. The dog likes to hear the same sentence again and again. Until
it is familiar. Then the addition of a new sentence. And repeating this combination, until it also is familiar.
Then the next sentence. And so on. Until a text has come into existence. Say of about twenty sentences.
Which afterwards I note down with pencil on a piece of paper. The different stages of this process
I summarize under the heading peppermint session. And when I say I believe it is time for a peppermint
session, the dog knows exactly that I know what she means.
This repeatedly repeating of such a text produces an enormous bond. Between us. Because through these
words, we again and again tune in to the wavelength that gives both of us access to knowledge. And
through such a text this knowledge becomes available to others. But, of course, only to those who also
have it in them to tune in to this wavelength. Logic.
19 As Blake remarked that the law of one is discriminatory for the other. I agree. He was talking about
lions and oxen, if I recall correctly. But it is equally true for forms that look less distinguishable, while they
each are subject to totally different data.
If I did not have the responsibility for my talent, then undoubtedly I would have developed a criminal
activity. To be able to provide for my material needs. Criminal in terms of the social laws. According to
my natural laws my criminal behavior would not be criminal. I could even state that, considering my
specific nature, in many cases it is criminal what my culture wants from me. That in terms of my nature
the collective to which I belong, has organized itself in a criminal regime. Only by corrupting my nature, it
would have been possible for me to, within this regime, be part of a privileged class. Privileged in terms of
prestige, power and consumption.
20 Now I am privileged in terms of friendship. The fact that within my professional field I am at most a
ghost name, who in no single survey has any real status, could not prevent that I have a circle I can trust.
A circle of people who are interested in my work. And a confidence I am worthy of, no need to pretend to
be modest. With each individual within this small circle I keep in touch. One visits me at home, with
another I speak over the telephone, or we write letters.
The explosives that have now been placed are my own initiative, paid for out of my own wallet. It just is
not possible to find commissioners, sponsors or funders for an enterprise such as this. The circle of people
who are interested in my work consists mostly of people who also are economic marginals. Logic. Yet this
is the circle that takes care of me. And because I can make do with very little, every gift does have an
It is not that they exert pressure on me in any way, but to unburden my friends and supporters I sometimes
consider renting myself out for a short while, in exchange for some money. Take on anonymous odd jobs
that do not give away my unorthodox approach. And so do not leave traces. Trifles in the growth field.
Not my favorite sector. But very much in demand. Cleaning up a bit of one's own mess, is what is seen as
growth in this sector. But it seems to me that growth cannot be defined in general terms. So how can it be
for sale, as an article for consumption?
21 I do not like bookcases, cd-cases and the like. For me no collections. Or archives.
None of the references, that seem to emerge as the constants in the reviews about my poetry, speak to
me. At least in those reviews I have come across. I do not feel compelled to put up any competition either.
The people whose heads are still full with these kind of references inhabit a different world than I do. This
does not happen from one day to the next. That one realizes that it is not at all rare for the professional
word producers and the professional image producers of the collective to be completely lost in their word
archives and image archives.
As a rule one inherits only at the death of a relative. If one does not accept one's inheritance then what
was bequeathed becomes waste. The nation of which I am a member typifies itself as one of the rich
countries. But poverty and wealth are phenomena that are being felt individually. By refraining from a
large part of the legacy of my culture, I became richer. Daring to trust one's experiences and one's
insights is wealth that reaches further.
No form is defining. Meaning, repeats itself until it comes to a permanent form or a persistent pattern.
Not if it is poetry. Just as no single organism can be mapped out for one hundred percent and then be
reproduced. This is something my rich country is mad about. Reproducing. Fixed illusions. Leading to an
increase of consumption and to a decrease of communication. Natural logic.
22 A pioneer shows, that it is possible to thrive in surroundings that up to that point had not been cultivated.
That a terrain, with the reputation of being inaccessible, can be grasped within known references. I am a
kind of inverted pioneer. My life shows that it can be quite a job to thrive in an environment that has been
cultivated down to the smallest detail.
© mc 2000-2014
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