Soaring into the living once more. Into the lawful. A dazzling wonder materializes before my eyes. A lovely face and frame prances through my text threads. A thought to end all the other thoughts comes alive and dances, swirls in front of my unbelieving notions. The ghost speaks to me intently. It comes through her, …
Dear God – placed here on a worn teak chair, blasted with the morning sun. A phrase foisted on my eyes: “Long enough have you dreamed contemptible dreams,now I wash the gum from your eyes,You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the lightAnd of every moment of your life.”
Into the looking glass went your eyes. And there you were again. Like the worm in your pocket after you stomped the Jerusalem beetle. You rise and you rise and you rise. And we know not what for. Look for it on the trail. In the stars at dawn. Where is your reason for rising? …
Oh Philos, you dug so industriously, like an ingenious prisoner with a spoon sneaked from the mess hall. Tunneling and pushing out past trails and birds, pines and crows, worms and lizards. Beyond sunsets and moon rises, to cups of coffee on a grand crown of land above the ocean. You smashed through the gates …
And oh the silly battlefield of days before. An hour floating in a puddle of magnesium water. Breathwork and mind stilling in a chair called here and now but in a place called shut up and pretend untruth. Playing with the symbols of the morning on a yellow brick road. Now that’s fun. What else …
