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

16 October 2009



"Free lunch, final wisdom, total coverage."

welcome to 37. 

 

too far out at times.  mostly on hold speakerphone some art supplies and time.  jimi laying it down in the big white car landau top waterside.  the morning after cigarette nutella lorna doone. first snow brings home the red squirrel return.  dog man.  white red and black the shedog was soft the hedog upright i carried a cedar dogsled like a sofa up the western stair and down backwards, which impressed him.  cold and strong dogs and a birthday. 

 

 "And then the tape recorder, for special music, and Acapulco shirts."

 of all things john barleycorn.  so much light it pushes through my skin in density.  hipswaying fire building homecoming.  i told him even if we dress like cowboys, we look like indians.  it is a blessing to be of use.
early in the morning a beastie in the grapevine plucking snaps from the very air i walk upon.  let us run, let us breathe.  my stride.  the beat poet in the street lets be actors in someone elses play walk-ons for the resurrection.  bit parts in an aeon.  eternity full of sound and fury.  i realize that now i write for you.  youre the only one it could maybe mean something to something i would mean to mean.  bookwitch.  dogwitch. tenacious fillamental connection.  a return to another story.  i wanted to say that the fall is honest.  no ones cheeks pinched by light and heat you become what you always were.  i long to become what once i was beneath the things that change.  

 

"He can swim," I say.  "If he'll just give the horse time, anyhow...."

 i get letters in the mail from a woman i love.   nothing in nature is all at once.   it feels extraordinarily strange to become a part of something.  i dont believe ive ever been part of something worth being a part of before.  i really miss my speakers.  the egg crackles on the inside.  the day was perfect affirming the worth of the day something that drives you back into the creature belly that wants to live  fills every fingernail numbers every hair.  nothing in nature is done of a sudden, even if it seems so.  so when i draw the card of ruin and dangle from some tensile tendril a dustmote wavering in exhalation of time and the quiet who's yodel, "we are here! we are here! we are here!" im good for another year and kiss the ground. 

 

he rolled the window down in the parking lot and yelled 'navajo' i said, 'caribou is my power animal.'  these boys are so funny and perfect and strange. 
i hope sometime this year to hit my stride.  its closer, more real walking into and out of some shadow.  a ship in full sail, one of the treasures.  chaotic as ever, its selfness closer to the surface.  colors there you can see colors of my sail the purple, green and brown good ground and wine in the belly.  the little girl saw grass and water.  of course the sun is a heart chakra.  indeed the thin time, this.

 

2 comments:

  1. Suzie DeGrasse16 October, 2009

    Hooray!!!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Suzie DeGrasse16 October, 2009

    I had your birthday on the 18th. I am two days late. I will still celebrate it then. And will mail you a gift.

    ReplyDelete

Blessed Be.

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"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)