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

08 August 2008


Bright Idea #70: "I can never be what i ought to be until you are what you ought to be. This is the interrelated structure of reality." -MLK
"The gnat that sings his summer's song/Poison gets from slander's tongue./The poison of the snake and newt/Is the sweat of envy's foot./The poison of the honey bee/Is the artist's jealousy./The prince's robes and beggar's rags/Are toadstools on the miser's bags./A truth that's told with bad intent/Beats all the lies you can invent." Cool grey morning presaging rain. if it keeps on raining the levees gonna break. puttered, picked up BFF and daughter for pilgrimage to port town where the goods are varied from afar an indian blanket a little bell #4 rhythm sticks and a glass green turtle. absolutely lovely lunch in a dark chinese dive she was choking and i didnt blink just waited for her to breathe trusting she would breathe. she breathed. homeward. its the same static charge the room fills #4 playing pollock the illusion of separation Love Love Love thats my song the hymn of my heart his hands flutter in the glare of artificial light in the cool beautiful night i go out anticipating the meteors and say look there, another planet in space.
"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)