Monthly Archives: September 2020

IF YOU

I F y o u go back to school give me your love — teach me
touch/ how electricity or god was invented by your hands (
subdued by the hand of an angel and buried eye)
LOVE: phenomena is such
being, conducted by a worthy Love
You’ve been cooling — fooling and mis-
using philosophy strictly within
the deep inside and slender/fragile
loooooooovvvvvvvve —————-
i imitate your beauty so shake
for me girl/ ooooooh expressing
oh oh oh oh (come on) i borrow a deep
mask learning and so fragile i borrow
way deep inside // sensations\
imiatating fatally exquisite < pulling
my skin carefully around it)
streamin down your face my dreams
love” — prettified. I give every inch
of my love – an awful big light squoits
down my spine way down inside: i am
dead er sumpn: next i
ah ah ah – ah ah ah —
shake for me girl/ down oh up sideways
oooooooooooooooh — some female within
the green field each fore crows drop into
sunset.

:: 09.28.2020 ::


Sex, Math And Fortnite

I went on a date last night. Before I tell you about that date, I want to tell you a story.

When I was a student at Northwestern University in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, I attended a fraternity party. One of the girls at the party was a freshman who had joined a sorority that week. She introduced herself and, over the course of the night, I learned that she was writing her thesis on evolutionary theory. When I asked her what she wanted to study, she said she was not sure. A while later, she said she was studying the evolution of sexual attractiveness. We got to talking about why some people look more attractive than others. To quote The Bachelor’s Bekah M., she said: “If it’s so easy to be attractive, then why is it that I’m not hot like all the other girls?”

I looked her dead in the eyes and, for the first time in my life, I said: “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?”

I have been seeing lots of college freshmen recently. Most of them have never seen themselves with a critical eye and they have never had a discussion about why some people look better than others. They think they have it all figured out, that they already know why they are attractive. However, in the span of a few weeks, most of them have learned that the mirror is a tricky place. People aren’t necessarily as beautiful as they believe. When a person stops being concerned with how they look, the only thing left to do is try to look better.

Don’t get me wrong, I have never told people that they are ugly. I haven’t been sure that this is a right thing to do. In the era of social media, it feels like all of us are constantly subjected to extreme angles of hair and butt, so I imagine most people take the advice of every Instagram photo as truth. At the same time, however, everyone I know who is single is obsessed with their looks. No one wants to hear that there is no such thing as “the perfect amount of muscle” or that a few extra pounds can even be a positive thing. I have yet to see someone not feel comfortable with their body after being told that it’s not a flaw. Most people know that their body is something that can work for them, something that they can get healthier and more in shape with time.

I’ve only ever heard this advice from the men in my life. My mom, for example, is forever yelling at me to “just stop eating so much candy.” I’m a hopeless romantic and I find myself sending love poems to people on Facebook. I can think of many girls who want to be ugly. In fact, in her latest book, Rainbow Rowell says, “Girls are all the time trying to be pretty, or to be liked, or to look right, or to prove something about their culture. We all are searching, in the way we are all inherently beautiful.”

But “beauty,” according to Rowell, “is about what lies between.” The saying has long been a popular one at Northwestern University. “If you’re beautiful on the inside,” someone would say to me in high school, “you’ll be beautiful on the outside.” And most of the time, this proved to be true. But I have also seen too many of my female classmates on those “best of looks” lists. To many of the people who tell us how beautiful we are, we are either “model-thin” or “in the mold.”

Sex, Math and Fortnite (port 03)

Our culture obsesses over finding the unattainable. Beauty feels like a competition. It’s as if we are being asked to justify why we are beautiful, like we are up for a popularity contest. People are constantly comparing us to other people we find unattainable. On the other hand, I’ve always felt that the standards placed on us are unfair. Girls are continuously told that they should be “a size two.” It isn’t right to judge a person based on their body. I believe that beauty should not be judged based on one’s self-image, but on who that person is on the inside.

Some people have it worse than others. Some of us have suffered from eating disorders. It is a misconception that you cannot become healthy and be thin and still be beautiful. I know I am still physically attractive, but I no longer try to be beautiful on the outside. I make it a point to not walk around wearing a red wig. It makes no sense that our culture is not OK with us being happy with who we are.

The AI thinks this is a good place to end the text.

:: 09.28.2020 ::


FATAL THUNDER

fatal thunder was the best one had when she came to me for advice about his economic condition.

she was my first client, she said to me: My husband says I’m a fool for waiting for anything. I’ve been a mistress and a wife and a nurse, but I haven’t made a penny on my own. He makes a living as a taxi driver. I live in a modest bungalow and he has a sprawling country home. I make housework and keep the yard and the cars and two cars in good repair. We spend every weekend in our country home and whenever he is away he brings the mistress and the mistress’s boy and the mistress’s boyfriend and the three men together.

He was twenty-six and I was twenty-five when we married.

I’m not a fool, I told him, and here is how I earn my keep. First, I gather the money in envelopes when it is in my immediate possession. Then I write checks when I am told by the client to do so.
I keep the checkbook with me so I know who I have to go back and ask for more. I have a reliable mover. I have a reliable chauffeur. I have an accurate accountant.
This is how I do it.

When I get in the taxi, the driver asks me the destination and I tell him, and when I get there I get out of the taxi and tell him where to go, and when he takes me to the hotel or the house, I give him the key and when I am getting ready for bed I give him the bill for the room and then I turn out the light and go to bed myself.

In the morning I get up and say, “He’s a fool for waiting.”

I’ve been doing this a couple of years, but now I’m running out of the money I got when I first started.
I don’t get any more checks or checks with letters of explanation from my client, and the money is not growing with my business.
I’m sure if I wanted to I could get another job and earn more, but what would I do with all that time?

It might be difficult for me to do.

So silence and pain are my bed brothers. Love is my sister. Together we weep every night.

:: 09.26.2020 ::


MANY TIMES, MORE THAN TWICE

MANY times, more than twice have I seen the ghosts of family, friends and then some whose faces that I did not know.
Quaintly, with ethereal elegance they are silky touch, feather breath, and opal eye, outside of the tick-tock of father time. It is most inappropriate to ask of them to state their business or intended pleasure
extend your politeness over scorn I say. But if I may make a brief apparatus is there a paper in the room, a hall-cabinet or a desk on which a white sheet is available? Might I do with the sheet as a summons?
The respect that one owes one’s guests becomes tested with boredom, oft times probed with practicality of thrift for there is nothing useful to be erected in the holder of the sheet.
Only when it is needful to be done is the one supposed to write in it. The space for writing is too limited.
Must the words be in black to be read? Must they belong to make any good or neither would it do to pay homage to the white sheets anymore? Might I pour out some ink, some thread to fashion myself a gnomon of sorts. Searching the paper to be free from ink might I try another opal eye, like my mother and the razors my grandfather used?
To groom his hair, and his kinks, each time they wore them down, but never ending. Might I even fawn over a ghost. Might I shed a tear for no other reason than it would be distasteful, and uncivil, to not do so. The wrong that is done to ghosts, which is, who has time for them when there is death’s work that need be done?
It is said the uncle, being thin, frail with a rasping voice, would sit silent and tired; sleep nearly all day, never greeting the other relatives, as the family has dwindled to once, two at most.
That he would be found some hours before sunset, with no water and no food beside his dead little cousin. Who was his spitting image when his lips would open he would tarry another moment?
Recline again, only to open them and wander the empty halls, awaiting. Someone who could help him with his chores, is the scene I imagine. A half asleep and suffering ghost who will never rest as long as
he continues to obey the order of his keeper, waiting until someone pays his due respect.
Now the spirit, like some phantom to the nighthawks of the wind and the greens of the apple trees.
He moves as lightly as the wind.
He dances like the light of an airplane.
He looks to live yet again.
In a white sheet, with a black script which could read nothing.

:: 09.26.2020 ::
/maj. Rev.\


A DRUNK KISS & A SOBER WISH

I drank alcohol and now I am fat and laughing inside the dark cave wanting to take all my life back and to be the me I used to be; to be the music I used to sing; to be the sunrise I used to see.

When I reach for the stars and dream of roses above my circle of friends who I’ve fallen out of just like I’ve changed you. This is what love really feels like. Oh my! I wish it were not true.
This is how I feel when I sing but all I need is a kiss!

I had a dream once — a dream that a bottle of red wine got drunk and woke up. And came onto my hand and I dreamed I was singing and a beautiful lady in a wig came onto my legs and I dreamed I was dreaming &
I dreamed I was falling into a purple slumber; I told my in-laws I want to be my own man. I want the necktie to be the peace of mind I need. I want the dreams to be nice & not get me into a world of hurt.

I just want a kiss!

:: 09.26.2020 ::


WE KEEP TO THE FIRE

Other voices in the garden //They long for
the roses.  
They live, boast, play in the soil of a day
so precious.

Too soon the graves bury them all
below only to rise again in the light
as stars that stop burning
the earth, to spend eternity
at the throats of wandering stars.
We Who watched we so Embraced.
Faint.
The stone.
The earth.
A curious rustling in the grass. A boyish giggle.
A girl’s giggles make Light.
In a house where nothing moves.
Such a strange thing.
Reason.
That the stars should never
go out.

:: 09.25.2020 ::


TWO-CENTS COIN

a strain of realization beyond the eye-see
a touch of familiarity delicate is such wonder
a poised daisy in a field more expensive than mind
dropping tears in vast nothings-do
// a gleam of immortality dipped in fog-dew
the sharp tonic of vapor as sparse folds-
a delicate pinch from an errant kiss
giving you a taste of the divine

I close my eyes & find my way to you

A lone breeze takes flight into my mental
surf tossing around images carved in shadow-
in spite of my effort
I lose track of their finality

Tiny suction cups clinging to a crevice
catching fleeting moments like clouds in light
tingling within ephemeral light

THE petite heart-slight as a two-cents coin
quiet as a snowfall spewing light
into a cold, lifeless world

:: 09.25.2020 ::


THE DRUNK MONK

By some Sourdough monk in Northern Europe Patron Saint: The Drunk Monk of Nimbus HERE you will find the only reliable treatment to solve all your psychiatric and medical problems.

The Drunk Monk has won many awards for his unconventional experimental treatments.

All of the Four Pillars of Understanding have been found to contain gold along with the Mayan Calendar. The importance of this breakthrough is that you may rid yourself of the ‘Woolsey Complex’ of whatever madness has brought you here today!

You need not pay the traditional price of gold this Buddhist monk can supply cheaply (assuming you don’t mind that this saint was turned away from the Inn In Henley upon Thames, over 1,000 miles from here!) in which you’ll find:

1. A helpful cosmic energy: energy from the Emperor of the Universe! He’s like Santa Claus without the jolly youthfulness or lack of living relatives.

2. Dependable transportation: the Holy Nimbus Scooter. Just take that scooter, turn it upside down, and it’s a see-saw!

3. All 4 Pillars of Understanding: the number of boatloads of cash that you’re destined to receive from unknown sources, and soon you’ll be having tea with the Queen!

4. Also, all the Five Pillars of Wisdom: I won’t be delivering the 5th but you already have it, don’t you? (He’s helping you move! You’ll see what I mean!).

The drunk monk uses a dozen different methods to get you “saved!” First, you’ll need to drink a liter of vodka every day Do you think he’s kidding? Then, and only then, will you learn that Zen Buddhism has been around for a long time and yet doesn’t have any tradition of drunken asceticism!

On the contrary, you’ll learn that Zen Buddhism was an old tradition of Buddhism in which monks exalted in quiet prayer could use liquor in their meditation and drink it out of respect for the Emperor of the Universe.

You’ll also learn that in the original 4th Pillar of the Buddha’s teachings, the monk used no alcohol but on his first miracle he just drank a glass of sake without soiling himself. The Drunk Monk will help you as he helps other desperate people who are down on their luck.

Give me your name and address and I’ll let you know when I can see you next!

:: 09.25.2020 ::


CRICKET & BEE

The cricket woke me.

As it scurried by, I noticed it was wearing a cloth (as if it were a tail!)
I had no sense of what time it was, but I noticed it was (after all!) about daybreak.
(This was later told to me) that many bats are nocturnal, or else they are so easily startled, they flee to cover their heads and hide.
In their defense, I suppose it may well have been mid-afternoon, for there was a palpable somberness in the air.
But, I felt there was no time to lose. I was to find EROS and leave on my mission.
With some haste, I left the dark streets, and headed south. I walked along a dirt path, although I did not really know where it went or to go.
The area was shrouded in darkness (though there was just enough moonlight to see)
and as I walked through a hedge of willows I felt disoriented and was careful to go very, very slowly (if not all in terror, I would surely turn to cactus!)
When I reached a “Road” I noticed it had a layer of pebbles on it, and walked past it, just in case there were some venomous snakes on that road. (At that point it would have been more like trying to get out of a sheet of plywood than to a mat of tinfoil!)
As I walked, it became more and more foggy, and though I could see quite a distance ahead of me, in all other directions it was pitch dark.
When I reached the far side of the light of day, I happened to look ahead of me.
In that brief moment, something fell down in front of me!
I saw it laying there, spread-eagled, but before I could move, it rolled right up onto its feet and began running towards me!

It had been a mosquito — and it had died — just because of me!
I was trapped in a painful searing haze of irritation.
I reached for a pocket knife from my pocket, and slowly began inching backwards.
I must not get trapped by the mosquito (i)n that maze!
I was already avoiding all sorts of vermin (e.g. earthworms, centipedes, snakes, scorpions etc) that night; why did it have to choose me!
So, I crawled backwards, very slowly, back to my camp spot.
I stood up, and in my irritation I drew a cross on my heart.
The mosquito landed on a rock, and I quickly looked around. There was no one around.
Then the mosquito’s wings swept over my head, and it disappeared down into the gloom.
I turned around, and began to head back.
But, as I walked, a dim, red light began to grow larger.
The light grew steadily, until it became a helicopter.
As it hovered in the sky, my exhaustion from the previous night began to grow.
The mosquito had chased me all the way to my spot, and was now guarding it!
And so I did what I had to do: I ran away, in a panic, back to my camp, where I found myself comfor(ing) again with the cricket.
I may have forgotten the sun was up that morning, for I was greatly exhausted.
But it was about that time I began to feel hungry, so I sat down at my cooking fire, and, while I ate, I watched the giant stone (that I had almost stepped on), turn slowly.
Eventually, it disappeared.
I then called out in triumph (albeit slightly in jest)
“It’s gone! I can go home now!
I can go back to sleep for the rest of the day!”
And the cricket replied:
“I’m so glad you could finally see that stone. I’m just happy to be here with you. Be sure you come back again and visit me some time!
(If you should find a bug in your hair, don’t scratch it, it will die! Just take me to its hiding place!).”
It may be hard to believe, but each and every cricket inhabits a different cave; though some are inside of rocks.
Some live in the stream that flows nearby,
and some live inside rocks.
But they all love to hang out together — all the insects in this area!
It’s a great group of friends, we spend all day in the cool of the cave,
and the nights are filled with nature’s best.
(These days the cricket — who I now know to be Augustus Insecta, was the only creature to come to my aid, and stand guard over my hut that night — and many nights thereafter.)
And, while I was happy to leave that place, I still took many souvenirs of it with me.
I used bits of it as walls and ceilings, and anything else I could take, and when I built my home at the foot of that giant stone, I built my roof out of it!
And, to this day, whenever I go up to the “Cockroach Tunnel,”
I still look back, and remember Augustus Insecta, who, I suppose, was the real hero of that place.
I know, I know, there’s a lot more to talk about, but I’ve only scratched the surface.
Those are just some quick observations about that particular cave.
There’s plenty more I could tell you, if you care to know.

But you have to start at the very beginning — where it all began —
and you have to come with me now! I’m happy to say I made it all the way!
That’s right — I can’t believe I’ve made it this far, but here I am.
It was a beautiful morning, and I was ready to escape the heat and sun and I figured I’d just walk around, open the gate, and take a look around.

I’d noticed some new flowers in the past days and wanted to see if there was anything interesting around the creek.

I headed up to the rutabagas, and there was something very strange about one that had suddenly bloomed, while I was gone.
I was flabbergasted by it!
Then, I heard a strange sound.
It was coming from the pines!
I was so shocked, I forgot what I was looking for — and, it was too late to go back, so I went to see what I had found.
I found it quickly, and it was indeed a bee.
But I could tell it was not a normal one.
It was not fat, and there was no veil in its wings — I was amazed by its size!
It was no bigger than the tip of my finger, but it seemed much, much taller.
And, it looked almost as if it might fly away, but it sat on a leaf near the creek’s edge.

It sat there patiently, and then, it began to walk down the side of the hill,
as if it was walking to meet me.

“Hi! Hi! I’m the Bee,” he said!
“I know you, I know you!” he said.
“I’ll tell you what I am — I am the longest living creature
who will ever exist. We share this earth with the other
creatures, but, only in relative terms, we have a lot more in common,
and they’re quite nice and useful.


THE KING OF ROCK & SAND

we have had many hard things so far we’ll have harder times yet to come
it has been a hard year and we are too young to have had so many hard times
there is nothing else that this world ever gave us at least not this year
you taught us not to give things from this Earth
that will rob us of our precious time
You left this Earth without trusting
you left this Earth without giving to those who need
your light; that you held in your hands
unlike anything or anyone we may know on this Earth
there’s not anything on this Earth/ so special
so dear that was you. you could not live on this Earth
so like a human even when you are dead
you live forever in our hearts
you live forever in our souls
for who else in this world can we hold on to forever
we have you
we have your light
you are! we are the millions who followed you
who laid down their lives and you could not carry
the great weight. you carried so we did not have to
one day we will learn to carry this great burden
no human can carry this great weight
there’s only one who can
And now we can
What OF God?
How come?
When can I see you?
When will I see you?
why don’t you leave me alone?

Leave me alone?
You’ve been with me for ever, in my bad times,
in my good times, when there was no way out
and no one to understand the way you could see
in a million hands held
The King of Glory.

I guess you’re going to have to leave me now
if you’re going to come back
I guess you’re going to have to leave me alone
when you say my life will not end
this time…
So do you see?
How can I see the King of Glory?
Well, if I were to fall into Hell
and be the first to greet the King
then, I’m sure I would find you
But I don’t want to go to Hell
I have never been to Hell
It’s not like I’m afraid of Hell
I’m afraid of living without you
without the comfort of your embrace
or at least the touch of your hands
or the warmth of your smile
or the sound of your voice
or even your kiss
no, I don’t like the smell of Hell
the sky is always clear
and green
and it looks so pretty
when it’s sunny
no, I don’t want to go to Hell
I don’t want to be the first
to greet the King
I just want to be with you
in Heaven…

:: 2020 .24.2020 ::