Enamored with nothing he is saying, the
slippery sea slug always does his best to ignore the fast scaly
schools streaming over him, washing him out, like the barrage of
snicker bar commercials coming at you when all you wanted was to
watch a quiet video of the stars. Finding a hole to slip into inside a
holey rock, the sea slug sees an elaborate sculpture carved by aeons
of waves in the ancient belly of the earth, while schools of fish merely pass
on by in the background. He watches it all go by, wishing he didn't
have to be a part of it, laying down and staring into the dark
recesses of what he cannot see within the rock, a mirror to a vast
nothing inside his slippery self, at rest, absorbing all that is in
movement. Sad, never being able to peer truly in the direction that
would reveal everything. He wishes he could just finally be in an
ocean of sea slugs that weren't like fishes. Sea slugs who innately
know the need for slowness and space, supporting each other in their
intimate aloneness.
Monday, November 25, 2013
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
In between some houses, a weathered and broken bench
gives me new space in which to settle for awhile.
Dark trees, the ocean roaring like an animal breathing
in the night. I put the pack down, sunk in
the tall grasses on the side of the sandy slope.
This is my bed for just tonight, for a weary traveler
who's sometimes afraid of what may come out
from the darkness. I use a flashlight to poke through
the cobweb nestled beneath and between the corners
of a partially missing and partially decomposed board.
It's a delicate process, searching an almost invisible web
to make sure it has been abandoned or at least, for the moment,
unoccupied. The previous night William Fox
had given me the flat l.e.d. flashlight I use to inspect this
solitary salt-winded bench for any signs of life.
He gave it to me right off his key chain and bought me
a hot bagel sandwich and tea (I ordered the same thing he gets),
we talked quietly about an ensuing adventure at Tiny's.
I had just gotten off the train--a two-day ride--and now
I was back in Portland after six months, April to October,
and ready to give birth to culture.
I knew I could call him up for a favor,
it would be no problem to stash a couple backpacks
in his apartment so I could leave that night on the bus
to the coast. To get some alone time at the hiker's camp
before I let everyone know I'm back--a place
away from Society, the City, the incessant Noise--
next to the Edge, the Corps of Discovery's Destination,
the Excitement, the Inner Life!
Here, now, it takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust
to the dim light of the moon's reflection on the untouchable surface,
though so close, of the ocean, just a drop and a roll away.
When its prenatal music sings in my ears it's like I'm come home
to somewhere that had been held in secrecy from me
during my entire childhood
gives me new space in which to settle for awhile.
Dark trees, the ocean roaring like an animal breathing
in the night. I put the pack down, sunk in
the tall grasses on the side of the sandy slope.
This is my bed for just tonight, for a weary traveler
who's sometimes afraid of what may come out
from the darkness. I use a flashlight to poke through
the cobweb nestled beneath and between the corners
of a partially missing and partially decomposed board.
It's a delicate process, searching an almost invisible web
to make sure it has been abandoned or at least, for the moment,
unoccupied. The previous night William Fox
had given me the flat l.e.d. flashlight I use to inspect this
solitary salt-winded bench for any signs of life.
He gave it to me right off his key chain and bought me
a hot bagel sandwich and tea (I ordered the same thing he gets),
we talked quietly about an ensuing adventure at Tiny's.
I had just gotten off the train--a two-day ride--and now
I was back in Portland after six months, April to October,
and ready to give birth to culture.
I knew I could call him up for a favor,
it would be no problem to stash a couple backpacks
in his apartment so I could leave that night on the bus
to the coast. To get some alone time at the hiker's camp
before I let everyone know I'm back--a place
away from Society, the City, the incessant Noise--
next to the Edge, the Corps of Discovery's Destination,
the Excitement, the Inner Life!
Here, now, it takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust
to the dim light of the moon's reflection on the untouchable surface,
though so close, of the ocean, just a drop and a roll away.
When its prenatal music sings in my ears it's like I'm come home
to somewhere that had been held in secrecy from me
during my entire childhood
Friday, September 2, 2011
a moonscape reclamation
as this cell regenerates, i absorb optimistic intervals through a translucent tomato skin. five organs reciprocate and rarefact their respective rations; the mundane gives off a certain spray, and subtle sounds surface in a certain way. Today, though, this cellular chieftain overlooks the edge, as if to politely captain a miniscule membrane that might otherwise think it should, in spite of its natural sense of flow, stick like honey. yarrow root shoots, implants itself into the quilted bed of your cratered moonscape, after it has received its water, many moons after noticing the need for a deus ex machina, waiting for icy asteroids to polish its rough spots, and for forking forces to aerate its soil, a surface studded with crystalized droplets of netherworlds, diamond-shaped and dimensional, a mere surface of an average sphere, a functional electromagnetic satellite, reflecting all but artificial light.
flickering flutterbyes defy the word that would define them
flickering flutterbyes defy the word that would define them, expecting saints and turns of grey, saying nothing that could entrap them, proving that everything's known today.
flickering flutterbyes defy the world that would define them, freeing changelings one by one, maybe one day discovering babies born from loins native and gone.
muck
perhaps unicorns shall inhabit the man's couture, and we shall forever live on the diversity of omnivorous plant-life, the understory to the fairie-taled Amazonian rain forest, wherefromwe once got pharms and needles, cacao and abundance of pollenators, flowers and ayahuasca, yerba mate, sifting through indigenous cow dung, for millions of acres of loose-leafe canary yellow Federal Reserve, vintage 1777, or else we could drink an aloe and lemon tonic, and our San Pedro, tripping shrooms with Rumi the mystic wanderer enamored with the Beloved for aeons and E-ons, our hard-ons shrinking to match one nation's fuss-budget psychoscape.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
moons and muses
I am a mirror. Mirror mirror on the wall. This is a form of free-writing. Cappino. Or maybe that's not how you spell it. I just have to fly away. Write. You are writing for me. That is your job. For I have commissioned you.
A man's walking down the street. Do things differently from the way you're used to them: things that, if practiced, will enhance your entire worldview and sense of Self.
1. Listen to the words of songs before or through the music (under, over, in place of--tune into the music, lose the human; tune into the human, lose the music).
2. Push yourself to inspiring, challenging, radical, humorous and revolutionary ideas.
3. Commit yoursef, dare your Self, your new reborn self, to act on one of these ideas. They are inspired. Remember, you are not just you. And so, you are never alone. I love you. You love you.
4. Remember it is all inside yourself. Every answer. Every prayer that you used to pray. Every question you have ever sought to be answered. Every observer, every object. Everything. An infinite realm of epiphanies.
5. Reach higher. You shot for the stars and the moon's responding.
6. Eventually, you'll reach the stars.
7. Love every moment. Live every moment. "Lovin' is (what I've got)."
8. Greet the Sun.
9. Greet the Moon.
10. Say your prayers (you know that this, while uncharacteristic of your reborn self, is possible, since at one time in your life it was characteristic of you).
11. Listen to your inner ear.
12. Look at your inner eye.
13. Look at your outer eyes.
14. Talk to yourself; get a tape recorder and record everything. This is your material that you feel compelled to share.
15. Organize your things (you know, also, at one time in your life, you were a master of organization; innately, you are).
16. Admire your things as you're putting them away (this also).
17. Imagine your life path ahead of you, as you realize what is being dissolved in you that prevents you from seeing yourself as perfect as you are. Imagine your home, the people that live with and visit you in this life--growing in the extent of your empathy for everyone and everything within and without what you may call your home. Thus extending yourself, your home will extend itself. All grows and returns to its source.
18. Basically, give voice to your inner child Self. Give him his dignity. Here's a possible scenario: He's still waiting. Say, "Jory, I love you." That Jory is only that Jory. He doesn't know what you know about him. You are his god. The one he prays incessantly to. Heal him. Only you have the power to do this (and you are going to write a book for children, called, "I know you're in there!"; giving kids of all ages the instructions on how to rescue their past selves, tools for integrating themselves into themselves).
19. Thank you, really, thank yourself. "Pat yourself on the back," as your second grade teacher Mrs. Kinman used to say.
20. Remember a name, a date, a word, a quotation, a specific detail about anything.
21. Make a plan.
22. Cleanse as often as you are reborn.
23. Practice deep breathing.
24. Sit up straight.
25. Meditate.
26. Remember, doing isn't scary. The thought of doing is scary. So stop thinking and start doing.
27. Eat more raw food than sweets. Keep a tally list with you, and check off only those foods that are on the list. And you will not eat anything that's not on the list. "Or you will never heal yourself," say audibly to yourself.
28. Go a week without looking at yourself once in the mirror.
29. Erase thoughts of guilt as soon as they come.
30. Write a song.
31. Don't think about making a zine. Just put it together.
32. Let it all flow.
33. And so it is.
A man's walking down the street. Do things differently from the way you're used to them: things that, if practiced, will enhance your entire worldview and sense of Self.
1. Listen to the words of songs before or through the music (under, over, in place of--tune into the music, lose the human; tune into the human, lose the music).
2. Push yourself to inspiring, challenging, radical, humorous and revolutionary ideas.
3. Commit yoursef, dare your Self, your new reborn self, to act on one of these ideas. They are inspired. Remember, you are not just you. And so, you are never alone. I love you. You love you.
4. Remember it is all inside yourself. Every answer. Every prayer that you used to pray. Every question you have ever sought to be answered. Every observer, every object. Everything. An infinite realm of epiphanies.
5. Reach higher. You shot for the stars and the moon's responding.
6. Eventually, you'll reach the stars.
7. Love every moment. Live every moment. "Lovin' is (what I've got)."
8. Greet the Sun.
9. Greet the Moon.
10. Say your prayers (you know that this, while uncharacteristic of your reborn self, is possible, since at one time in your life it was characteristic of you).
11. Listen to your inner ear.
12. Look at your inner eye.
13. Look at your outer eyes.
14. Talk to yourself; get a tape recorder and record everything. This is your material that you feel compelled to share.
15. Organize your things (you know, also, at one time in your life, you were a master of organization; innately, you are).
16. Admire your things as you're putting them away (this also).
17. Imagine your life path ahead of you, as you realize what is being dissolved in you that prevents you from seeing yourself as perfect as you are. Imagine your home, the people that live with and visit you in this life--growing in the extent of your empathy for everyone and everything within and without what you may call your home. Thus extending yourself, your home will extend itself. All grows and returns to its source.
18. Basically, give voice to your inner child Self. Give him his dignity. Here's a possible scenario: He's still waiting. Say, "Jory, I love you." That Jory is only that Jory. He doesn't know what you know about him. You are his god. The one he prays incessantly to. Heal him. Only you have the power to do this (and you are going to write a book for children, called, "I know you're in there!"; giving kids of all ages the instructions on how to rescue their past selves, tools for integrating themselves into themselves).
19. Thank you, really, thank yourself. "Pat yourself on the back," as your second grade teacher Mrs. Kinman used to say.
20. Remember a name, a date, a word, a quotation, a specific detail about anything.
21. Make a plan.
22. Cleanse as often as you are reborn.
23. Practice deep breathing.
24. Sit up straight.
25. Meditate.
26. Remember, doing isn't scary. The thought of doing is scary. So stop thinking and start doing.
27. Eat more raw food than sweets. Keep a tally list with you, and check off only those foods that are on the list. And you will not eat anything that's not on the list. "Or you will never heal yourself," say audibly to yourself.
28. Go a week without looking at yourself once in the mirror.
29. Erase thoughts of guilt as soon as they come.
30. Write a song.
31. Don't think about making a zine. Just put it together.
32. Let it all flow.
33. And so it is.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
"Let Myself be Aware"
let myself be aware in this moment that i do not need to be aware
in order for everything to operate functionally, i am
part of all that is, in form or not. may my thoughts not impede
the progress of the circuit being completed through me,
an ark being constructed, in preparation for some preconceived
Global Flood of consciousness. infuse me, o nameless, o many names,
o collective and singular being(s) (am i praying to the billions of cycling
cells, phasing through receptors, transmitting photons, wiggling strands of pseudo-quantified DNA?)
infuse me with the energy that I Am, that Eye Am, We are, expressing solidarity through symbiosis,
a unity of purpose as all organisms contained herein, in whatever we are-at, to construct a new earth, what seems to be
the real "new world order,"
Are there such things, "anymore," as "too arrogant," and "too humble"?
Each cell screams, "hallelujah!," and how can I deny it?
A feeling, expressed or unexpressed: Suspend an awareness that has been recently popping into myself that....
in order for everything to operate functionally, i am
part of all that is, in form or not. may my thoughts not impede
the progress of the circuit being completed through me,
an ark being constructed, in preparation for some preconceived
Global Flood of consciousness. infuse me, o nameless, o many names,
o collective and singular being(s) (am i praying to the billions of cycling
cells, phasing through receptors, transmitting photons, wiggling strands of pseudo-quantified DNA?)
infuse me with the energy that I Am, that Eye Am, We are, expressing solidarity through symbiosis,
a unity of purpose as all organisms contained herein, in whatever we are-at, to construct a new earth, what seems to be
the real "new world order,"
Are there such things, "anymore," as "too arrogant," and "too humble"?
Each cell screams, "hallelujah!," and how can I deny it?
A feeling, expressed or unexpressed: Suspend an awareness that has been recently popping into myself that....
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