I really want to get this going....

Each day's listing is an excerpted edit from my work. These are numbered and sub-headed for ease of read and isolation from full body of continued text. Each small excerpt is a single-themed piece culled from a much larger whole. Please follow the heading numbers down to #1, or click on 'archive'. The highest numbers are most recently posted, obviously. If so interested, for follow-up, you may contact via e-mail shown - perhaps for discussion or annotation needed.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007



Once upon a time in Magnolia Glow Somewhere USA there was a firestorm bird prancing to fly - it ran and it ran it flapped and it flapped but it NEVER could leave the ground : 'appearances deceive' it was told 'there's not a real need for you to fly even though you THINK convincingly that you can' and that meant of course so much for 'actualization' and the realization of any penchant for freedom travel life escape and with that conquered idea down the drain everything else went to the dogs with it - life became a dull bore rancid with unequal conversions and petrified situations - things never meant to coalesce things never granted accumulations of wishes and desires and because of that even the rotation of the Earth wavered for some time before deciding to halt as the sun it seemed ran backwards and the planets in place began falling and everything relative to everything else became but like a dream image - twisted unsure a bit out of kilter but with emotion so real one would swear it was real but only wise men know the true soil of the material world and what sprouts from it and NO MATTER WHAT ELSE IS PLANTED only certain categories of growth come forth : a 'we' and a 'they' and a coin box at the wishing well of foundations and SUDDENLY I looked up and around me saw : a five-man chorus singing Celtic songs about nature and the world and the reawakening of all things as nearby some ten bagpipers descended and began to play : tuneful dirge mournful something a melody that made me cry : and I took out a pen and wrote on the wall 'I forgive no one for anything - and never will either' and then I got up to walk away and was again outdoors where I'd thought I was anyway and saw bright light sunlit umbrellas and people at tables sipping teas and wines and torrid men in white jackets bringing sandwiches and pastries to those who sat around and I wondered to myself what world I'd entered for it felt for sure I'd not been here before and then a panic set in as I remembered once long ago seeing a situation much like this when of a sudden a crazed and angered street-person came along and started ranting to everyone about something and then he came through the barrier and started upending tables throwing ashtrays and smashing water goblets and everyone screamed and started running back or getting away or going inside and two men came out to attempt to subdue the man who was beast-like in his sudden strength and then three policeman arrived and they tackled the guy and with a club subdued him and held him down and they handcuffed him and dragged him off - into a patrol car and swiftly away - and the mess was cleaned but nothing ever went back to the scene it had been just before and I remembered that scene in some little horror thinking of it could ever happen again but I realized it could not for the world had changed and NONE of these people dwelt in that sort of a world and they'd not understand it or recognize it if they did and that sort of occurrence had simply been thought out of existence - the vastness of change the alteration of a million consciousnesses had somehow led to something else and something new entirely and that was what we now lived : REMNANTS of stages of parts of some forlorn evolution of daring and doubt and destruction with smoldering ruins which we just went ahead and decided to live around and keep going nonetheless no matter so what : crucible of steel molten lava of circumstance all wizardry of valuation and merit : listen up and you will hear the midnight sound of what is near - the palpitating moments of lies and deceit and the magic of grace redeemed if only to be found and lost again and the world is a thousand magic moments in one swift instant and NO ONE can read the handwriting on the wall.
(Uncongenial quarters in uncongenial isolation)...


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