Dream #1

Possess beauty or it will possess you Even as I write this a piece flesh falls to the ground The spectacle of every day The bodies suspended in time Any signs of life are much appreciated Sweat and sinews and sex. Play in the city with types of kindness and types of death. Archetypes stirred and collaborating as mutts Though a mongrel I want to be golden brown and red And almost I am An unremarkable remark Remade into a man Scheming with brown eyes Flushed with abundance of breath And secret hair softly on cheeks A mark, a question of clear bright skin Bones to fall with Muscles to pull myself up From an edge The mind Since I cannot be a bird And I have tried I'd settle for beautiful, as I choose Appear and disappear gently All with the same unending motion Of things coming together and falling apart Yes I am the one who sleeps a rest that is not real or one of many dreams that bleed themselves To show the world what it feels like Is there a single pleasure out there That does not request sacrifice? How many more times must the earth turn For another moment like the one that never seems to come

off the off the of the

oh geez summer is shattering open in so many directions,
$10 in my checking account, kazoo in my pock-ette,
looking out over this garden, these red-hot poker flowers roses and hills of competing doug firs and cedars and white oaks and maples--
discomfort is a sign of a learning edge, a rich place to dig into
i love learning so i find myself on the edge of discomfort a lot.
the wind is singing and i'm learning to translate
for the fire's licks and the groaning of this dry red soil.
i've been around the siskiyous for the past month now, never thought i'd find myself in a place like this--this dry and brittle harbor, rich and seductive and secretive hills where craziness is an edge to dance along. we the firepeople waiting for the fire, scrambling strolling in this age of consuming forces and summer sun. getting downloads and uploads from the spirit channel; this land talks loudly in a thousand voices, a thousand thousand marrowed ancestors.
oh, to be a blade of grass. oh, to be a sharp knife. oh, to be an eagle chasing a rabbit--
for now.
back to portland tomorrow--more soon.

the anwer is to become weirder
develop violent and aggressive eccentricities
when "there's nothing to resist"

if you begin to hallucinate, that's just an added bonus