“Longing, we say, because desire is full
of endless distances.”

02 August 2008


Bright Idea #65: "Erotica is using a feather, pornography is using the whole chicken."
"A robin redbreast in a cage/Puts all heaven in a rage./A dove-house fill'd with doves and pigeons/Shudders hell thro' all its regions./A dog starv'd at his master's gate/ Predicts the ruin of the state." Early love coffee Changing Woman Oz and Quadrophenia for later. night rain on my journal theres a new one with a frog on it rebirth transformation the butterflies of the water water and last nights offering let it be. were pioneering our souls hilltop together perspective the lay of the land doesnt seem as strange. but its too easy for him to slide into valleys gloom where i see the frogs and the fireflies. toadie toadie send my regards to your mistress mistress of us all the three roads leading everywhere her at the center knowing through across it all Changing Woman Estsanatlehi the cycle the circle of abalone turquoise white shell jet seasons beauty road rising in a spiral like the beauty and balance of the very universe one word Love. BFF and the black knight story line cool night Dont Settle. walk the dog through dim mist dark moon i can so clearly recall the streets there, voices under the awning love at the end of the hall. we agreed that the only thing wed do differently was not use our common sense.
"And if the question were asked: What is more real, the mundane or the sublime? most would hesitate before they gave an answer. On the one side, details: say, the aftermath of a breakfast, dirty chipped plates in the sink, their rims encrusted with egg yolk. Against this, the unnameable: small aching heart with boasts, what can you know? Outside the cage of everything we ever heard or saw, beyond, outside, above, there lies the real, hiding as long as we shall live, there stretch and trail the millions of names of God burning across the eons. When all through this our end will come before we even know the names of us.

For many the egg yolk prevails." -L.M.

"Love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well." -V.V.G.

"The perfection of the Absolute where all Becoming stops and pure Being, immutable, timeless, unchanging, hangs forever like a ripe peach upon the bough." -E.A.

"...and the whole incident was incredibly frazzling and angst-rod and filled almost a whole mead notebook and is here recounted in only its barest psycho-skeletal outline." -D.F.W.

"At the top of the mountain, we are all snow leopards." -H.S.T.

"Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live." -D.T.
"Cometh a voice: My children, hear; From the crowded street and the close-packed mart I call you back with my message clear, back to my lap and my loving heart. Long have ye left me, journeying on by range and river and grassy plain, to the teeming towns where the rest have gone - come back, come back to my arms again. So shall ye lose the foolish needs that gnaw your souls; and my touch shall serve to heal the fretted nerve. Treading the turf that ye once loved well, instead of the stones of the city's street, ye shall hear nor din nor drunken yell, but the wind that croons in the ripening wheat. I that am old have seen long since ruin of palaces made with hands for the soldier-king and the priest and prince whose cities crumble in desert sands. But still the furrow in many a clime yields softly under the ploughman's feet; still there is seeding and harvest time, and the wind still croons in the ripening wheat. The works of man are but little worth; for a time they stand, for a space endure; but turn once more to your mother - Earth, my gifts are gracious, my works are sure. Instead of the strife and pain I give you peace, with its blessing sweet. Come back, come back to my arms again, for the wind still croons in the ripening wheat."
-John Sandes, The Earth-Mother (excerpt, 1918)