medici pope?

i am going to dig up saint augustine and eat what's left of him
Mrs. I'm-Not-Special-But-I-Don't-Deserve-This
This Is Beyond the Pale
in woad paste decorated, nibbling on postcards
standing above a ditch
the drool from the mouth eroding the dirt
grooving out a deep divet
over centuries

oh yes when he was a student james joyce
and we will call him james
and not stephen dedalus
couldn't trust his annotation stippled textbook
and he saw hell
for fifty pages!

such a latinate ego, what a notable quotable

can we name the thing? i mean the mid-calf deep in lake water, too hot in unshaven evening wear, hundred dollar silk dresses, under bruise purple dusk light sighing, a kissing only religion, the sense the sense the sense that there is a sort just a little bit of maybe just possibly some - i swear it's right here i promise i saw it beheld it held it hold it hold up slow up, but what are cloaked wizards and proud god smashers on tv when you close your eyes but don't intend to go to sleep?

a vestibule off the side of the face
hanging behind you
double

you say you believe in astrology or the tides
not so wrong i guess
we grow big inside of ourselves
we promise ourselves we'll go to heaven
we color in a punishing hand.

Aho.

some of us are water people, some of us earth people, some mountain people
You are forever pure, you are forever true, and the dream of this world will never touch you. So give up your attachments and give up your blah umm blahh he bum bum badadooowopp and fly to that place thats beyond all illuzzzzzeeeeunnn.

Hello: entry into rainbow world. When's the last time I wrote?
well, check it out. I
rode through the desert of northern mexico on the bed of several trucks.
I
camped in Palenque and went waterfall walking, had some sacred mycelium journeys,
and I am in this sweet difficult transitory relationship with Mateo-- the star of three stooges monk style, star of the rainbow kitchen, star of the ballooning ego.
(the most fun thing to do in a rainbow kitchen is feed the workers. ola familia, guacamole and jicama for hardworking hippies!!!)

this morning, after the solstice/full moon journey, I went around the circle serving canteloupe to the family and my appetite disappeared, I was so full of the gratitude of each smile, of each person willing to look into your eyes, to share this experience of--- the unmanifest, pachamama, a reality beyond money, an eternal drum circle by the sacred fire.

(A: hey guys, am I a hippie yet?
M: No way. Your crust punk leanings put big sticks in your hippie wheels)

Phew?
Well, at this moment in my life I am moved by trance parties, drum jams, waterfalls, and medicine ceremonies. Don´t know how long it will last, but I am riding this wave down to Costa Rica to geo-paradise, a six day trance party that ends with a campout on the beach. Electronica mixed with workshops about sustainability and energy work-- hopefully a good place to make connections and find that idyllic jungle yoga farm where I can ground out for a minute.
We've lucked out with a ride to costa rica from a swiss rainbow brother with a golden california van. 5 hippies crossing central america.

I am learning to move slowly. To wait to be moved. To be to let be.