I split the sides of the world laughing at it.
It all comes apart because I am an example.
Like a comedy of maps whose puzzle-piece first appearances dissolve in the yet much more puzzling ocean they spill into the gaps left unfilled by their drawing.
All that drawing drowns itself.
Cartography describes space at a distance, through the distance of abstraction; laughing is acknowledgement of things at a distance, through the distance of abstraction.
I laugh because tragedy is what will occupy the cannot-be-filled-up space
The one whose filling-up just retraces it
Repeats the distance
just more delays
Throws fresh water into the already very in-salted ocean))))>>/
De-lay: an impression of something is the renewal of something under the perforated umbrella of a part-hiding part-showing phenomenology; no stopping the rain; something shows up again meaning itself beyond an every-piece-of-the-puzzle collection entirety.
The shore never quite reached, despite however much mapped, hunted pen and paper, mast and sail, beneath near and distant suns, over shallower and deeper waters, with and against world-trapsing winds, current-sitting equators.
The share never quite breached.
The shadows never quite embeached.
The strip of possibility that narrows everything.
That makes it impossible.
interregnum meaning of this really
gives it its possibility.
Here and, therefore, not-here, too.
Shown and, therefore, hidden, too.
Laughter speaks the impossible language of the impossible. Keeping the distance. Not overwriting it with a repetition that de-lays it with too much presence, all over again.
A meaningful voicelessness.
When saying anything is too much.
Laugh because it is the only way to resign without giving up.
at the silliness of being involved
at the misery that involves us without a second’s notice
at the happiness that comes as a result of sadness managed in some bearable form.
This and that
happiness and sadness
but never either totally
just both in differing degrees
winding each other up.
Family resemblances. Therefore, probably some sibling rivalry.
The puzzle is the puzzling.
even a full-on resignation has to do too much, make its own way to the grave, step-taking a many-ness that stands against its own reason
has to make a difference that does not absolve it of the world
but repeats the world under its own terms
which is a world-determining thing to do
more tied down than ever before
so procreatively non-procrastinately involved…
I have to laugh at the nihilists
full of meaning
The shore they describe, the map they puzzle-piece into the ocean of puzzles,
sends them pen and sail into the very worldliness initially set out to be decried.
Boat-taking makes accomplices of us all
It is funny. Because the world is funny like that.
Just as I must laugh at the optimists
who think that the shore is really there, and that its correct writing shall tell us once and for all the procedure of being.
I laugh at myself for finding all of this funny
because it is not funny
nihilists retrieve examples ample from the wars that optimists – out of their unwavering correctness – repeatedly induce
there is nothing funny about this.
It is tragic.
And the only way to bring hope back from the des-pair of war and war-thought is to laugh –
in other words, speaking to the impossible in a careful manner. To regroup
to side-split a little
let out a little pressure
let air out
a different air in
making the most of difference
before setting out again
to speak once more with the nihilist
the sure knowers of the shore
one tells me it is definitely not there
(burns it alive to my eye. Oh, the excitement of red vision)
the other that it definitely is
(which puts it out all over again. They say orange. I go limp)
The same story
They share so much without sharing anything
and repeat the distance without even realising it
as we all do
but they who are distance’s true lovers
possess the required indifference to make their own torch-light shaping of the invisible show up
fornicating and breeding endless difference
given what they believe
quite literally fucking funny
whilst I try to make them laugh at themselves before they make us all cry again
with their either-north-or-south-pole erections.
Laughter promises a spherical reach.
TL; DR: fill the gaps with a sense of the gap. Like laughter that really echoes.
 Thank you, Frank.