Monday, December 12, 2011

page 36

through the open window hobos and punks gather around the fire spark another one bring us another god take us to the other side I went there once when I was in high school and I didn’t like it I didn’t understand the boundaries between this world and the other dissolve I don’t know how it happens it just does I don’t know it might be an accident but it doesn’t feel like an accident it feels like it is supposed to happen like this belongs to me to my life that dissolving boundaries are connected to me it is what I have become what I was destined to become I think this dissolving might be the higher ground the place of refuge that I have turned to time and time again in my life nothing makes sense except this I make the invisible world visible I know this now it is something to do with my DNA the structure of my being I can walk between the worlds everywhere I go the two worlds are with me when I was in fourth grade the two worlds were with me I tried to express it in a poem and I only confused others around me how could someone so young be aware of such things my teacher accused me of stealing the poem from a book she searched through hundreds of books to find my poem and never found it she never would the poem didn’t exist until I wrote it the poem was inside me living though me and no one else could have expressed it the way that I did it was because of the dissolving before I understood the dissolving then I thought it was god and I sought after the things of god but it wasn’t god it was greater than god so much greater a voice told me to find love and I blindly thought god was love I had heard it in Sunday school so many times before but love is not god love is the universe love is the two worlds that connect us the two worlds that flow through me walking the obscure shaggy dog convinced that I have made contact with something significant the oedipal story line cannot be accomplished without the act of disappearance someone has to disappear to have to be separated so that they don’t recognize the connection thus there has to be alienation in the plot the hero has to experience alienation he is separated from aspects of himself he is not a complete and whole individual and here is where fate shows its cruel side in making himself complete he fulfills the curse it is connected to the blood the blood cries out for revenge and Hamlet has killed his father maybe not by his physical hand by in spirit he killed his father in the spirit world thus fulfilling the pattern in the material world the boundaries dissolve and one cannot be sure of the casual factors today is Thor’s day she peppers her conversations with woo hippies with hoola hoops knocking on my door asking for a cup of sugar my right arm is holding their brainstems an army cap full of sore fingers worn skin polished stones the swollen spider of reality biting the head off the universal sensuous image an old schoolmaster and bargain basement detergent clear plastic enchantment salvaged Texas on the tip of my dick so heavy behind the dream your fear hides under the trees so as to be invisible to the helicopters ancient cabbage with famous sleep hence the blue equals the red open up your human cage where are you Johnny Rotten can you distinguish the art from the audience an angel of the lord appeared before me and said low they always say low it would be strange if they said high she has come to nail me to the cross again she has her tool box with her craftsman tools she has her hammer

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