A letter to R.
"Transparency. To let the light not on but in or through. To look not at the text, but through it; to see between the lines; to see language as lace, black on white; or white and black, as in the sky at night, or in the space on which our dreams are traced." Norman Brown, Love's Body. 259.
The man is a poet! And questions questions questions remain.
The moment underground when we can no longer imagine the compost,when process ceases,
is that death?
Or is compost the soul?
It is when and why we cannot, we are unable to integrate the teachings of the underground on to our school curriculum.
Hibernation, burrowing, quiet, multiple deaths of some species and on and on. Like monarch butterflies that migrate to Mexico in one season, in two or three, or a hundred generations.
I do not think butterflies have been tagged by scientists to count their multiple generational deaths. Kind of hard to do.
Simply because we do not wish to go there. To the place of soul.Silly of us because we are surrounded by this fluid death.
"When I was born, a death wish so strong the certainty then I was already dead."
Or can we imagine this intriguing in-between,the between the lines as something other than - a possibility?
The blank page? Amniotic fluid as death and life in one.
I have been writing about this place in dream, this City of
and it is a haunting task - the entire
comes from dream state and it comes in pieces, ready made. An amazing
process of translation on to word that which does not wish to be translated on to
It is like a "real" dream I had once about a theatre play that had no words - the entire play was made out of movement without a sound or a word. A mimic, a mime.
I have started training a new bunch of interpreters at the arboretum and once again, it is time for the wonderful talk about the "ecology of the watershed".
When this old biologist, a "deep ecologist" reminds us of the closed nature of the cycle of life - from water to water.
He looks at all facets of science and ties it all together –
the flow of the creek downriver, the resistance to the flow downriver. To the large body of water in the bay, to the eggs of fish spawning upstream, to the calcium in the teeth of human and the egg shell of bird, to the methodical transformation of nail and tooth to dots in the wings of a butterfly, seen under the lens and back to full color, when seen by naked eye.
George, our resident neighbor peacock showed up today, after a long absence.
In the end, they all willingly or not, come up with the moralizing tale that we (humans) are more predatorial than,
And I think - why? This anthropomorphic view does not yield great insights! Anymore, anyway. We have written the classics already. It is time for new thought!
Well, it is Saturday and a day to write and to ponder. Another literary magazine in New England picked up one of my poems - to appear in January. I am done taping a CD, The case of dreams. Will read some on Friday, October 8, at Ed Kling's gig with the open mike thing at the St. Michaels Community Center at 8 pm. At least, I think I will, if the spirit of the soul moves me.
Next week it is Saint Michael’s 200th anniversary celebration. Gordon will dress up as a true "colonial" baker at the Saturday farmers market. I will come as his "poor relation". I thought perhaps to dress up as a South American rarity of an Indian old woman, complete with a bone on my nose - brought to the
as a circus act, way back when, and now
working for the "boss man" as a baker's assistant in exchange for
room and board and a little sex. We are trying to get a true black man to
come in dressed as a slave - so what else is new? in shackles and chains.
Do you think Mark Woodie might go for it? We shall be arrested for sure. northern
Of course, Gordon is working on a boat that shall land at Muskrat Park precisely at 10 am, when the bells ring for market start.
"Oh how pretty!" will exclaim the ladies! And out of the boat all the slaves will disembark, fresh from Sa Leone, covered in slime and in shit! And the good ladies of the market shall hand them lemons as a good remedy to combat their scurvy!!
Cheers! This is my sermon for the week.