spiritual language poetry & writings

notes toward a cosmic folklore – XI

 

 

As early blossoms send out ripples across this territory, the

journey of 10,000 miles begins with a single step…telling it

like it is gets right to the point—looking with a vision old and

new, fiddling around in memory of history hidden in the

woodwork (or is it handiwork?) of this definite picture, and

of forever new frontiers, of a touchNbond climate winning

hearts and risking lasting love affairs (ultimate rush) for a

virtual “do-it-yourself” shedding of light…the recycling theory:

a re-mapping of the terrain of the ties between us, of the law

of unintended consequences…a core sample (someday we’ll

laugh): preparing for Citizen Joe’s role in the poetic justice

system, you, survivor, shake off slumber and start funding

down-to-earth family ties, elusive solutions to be sure (in

such as this, there’s no such thing as a sure bet), matching

wits with the big moment as it approaches, making your words

sound as if they were newly minted, twisting standards until

there’s no such thing as a completed, uncomplicated lie—yes,

life lifts and goes on for sinland tricksters like you…revealing

depths never hinted at…but this translation still has a way to

go (simple sometimes the easiest to mistranslate, as in here &

now getting mixed reviews from the Muse as turmoil revealed…)

though now in signaling new stance, vows to stay, to restate

stance:…how rising from the ashes of this Heaven on Earth,

reckless master of revolutionary style (of a whole country of

long lost lives) has much to fete on many fronts, working

magic of subterfuge (relations expected to continue) w/ quick

on the wing impressions…though sometimes, it’s true, our

bodies should do the talking: we are irrelevant, we indulge…

we are in control, we rule…we are silly, we stumble…we have

guile, we toil…As a blur in the background of images, I—seen

only in this invisible light—would suckle the hungry beast,

or would placate the ancestral ghost by removing a finger joint

—if only to honor my family…why should I feel embarrassed?

why hide from view? these images of sky to a person looking

up—I know now what falls into us, as energy, releases us into

what we are.

 

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