Sunday, October 2, 2011

Farther Yet

So the blue jays come, pleasantly usurping afternoons meant for sleeping and love. One gets lost in television, one fails the communications test. I wake up and study my Mennonite neighbors, musing on what exactly is it that the devil needs from us to live. Tea, wedding rings and - in memory anyway - a boardwalk under which the homeless drink and kiss and cast brown shadows. Goats licked the fallen apples, nibbled rows of old newspaper and danced lightly in the aisles on their delicate cloven feet. A caramel way of seeing the world leaves one gasping for the holier salt. Nondualism is either right or wrong. I followed Jesus to a small clearing and knelt with him to pray and the prayer was so good that I forgot what I was saying and opened my eyes for direction and he was gone and I could hear the neighbor's chainsaw and farther yet traffic going who knows where. Shoulds pave a regrettable trail. We cannot sell the soul - the markets don't exist - but we can absolutely proffer our awareness of it. This is much of what we know to be the world. Against which, I write and write and write and write! For example, a fall deluge means a winter's worth of disruptive frost heaves. Over by the bridge, the ghost horses stop to nibble imaginary grass, waiting for my lead. The home fire, the treasure chest, the cumulus cloud with rays of pillaring sun. In one story, the new father balanced his wife on his back while the exhausted but game midwife hauled the squalling mew out of her. We arrive beholden to stars, the one fact we never quite forget. The sentences lately are divided, mirroring the current density of my body. And then another song was sung and another round was ordered and the candles flickered this way and that like young women dreaming of altars and so the last of the nights without rain passed and we woke up loveless and alone, a thousand years hence. Oh for another taste of you, who so delighted my days.

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