“I thought then I should save one small warm true thing from the flood.”
—Zbigniew Herbert, “Elegy for the Departure of Pen Ink and Lamp”
Our lives are fluid—liquid pour—consume—replace—replenish— and then—recall. Surprise! How we shift—habits and ways—allowing for empty space—of balance—restore. Darkness seeps—slowly into day—end bright…Night fills lighted places and turn-on bulbs—share grays—shades many—always simulate and always fail—to cheer the sun…And! Rain does pour from sky—onto roof—through spirals both—short or long—gutters or just eaves—from leaves’ soak—or arcs—golden tricks of night light—inside—as outside water—splashes ground—collects—sidewalk—flooded cracks—into pools of wet—and of—mud carvings—and pavement soaks.
Still here—beneath these heavens—our sea—swirl-twirls and we hear—whale sing-song our mother— into-necessary-sleep. Whale—sing-songs—the heating of blood-self—until warming is—non-fear. She rises from—emerald seas and from—black sands—where tide pulls current— and—lines-of-moon-light are perfect—and—disappear into the—dustless night. Now! Touch— the Dancing One—the Witch of life—and taste—her creations…Goddesses do create—Heavens-Earths and Moons-Suns—while passing—Spirits-to-flesh—and back again…Spirits do form—and substance—is free… Correct notes!—Pipers of those—silver flutes—held ‘gainst heart ‘beeps’ strong—as fair—seafarers often pass—others-into-light—as others ‘cross— star-streams-to-suns—above sea and beyond sky…
‘These are summer’s small ones. Little boys—a lake—a sun—a length of blond hair—red hair— freckles and frogs. Brothers—little and younger—play in tiny waves-too small-to thunder toward sandy shore and pine trees. And wind—wanders through those pines—growing in rows above—rocky places where shadows of— fern and grasses cling and mingle with—swimming life—aquatic things—rainbow-colored trout and fish brothers—hoping to catch…These rafting days—orange and yellow circles—filled with air and noise across a quiet bay. These are singing days! Shouts and shrieks and whistles—‘cross the harbor call—where wood-hulled ships rest—bell claps—rocking waves and setting sails. Snake twins—those boys—brothers of blood and the eternal bonds—of water and of mud. Water children—held above the line—knowledge buoyant—unafraid and free—defeating for the playtime—gravity and restrictions of—a drier Earth. Sunshine—West-turns and slips beneath the sky. Nymphs have forgotten—paradise found—summer’s little ones. So small! Beneath the scheme—of earth and large beneath the stars. So bright! Those stars! Filling lake—sparkles and silence—gems dancing and laughing diamonds…Tiny—brothers’ sleep fast and safe—within their dreams. And! A father listens—to the brief and passing sounds—of laughter.’
Frantic! This talk—‘America’ speaks—and ‘Failure’ reeks—long lengths-of-rhythm ‘Lies’ as ‘Freedom’ dies or never—was—does-as-trouble—double-entertains—prior—to longer-nights-shortest-lights—still counting times—as errors made and ever-never correct—when realization—is always—too late. Never! Allow Government to destroy—the people’s achievements—their history—their language—their future dreams. Happens! And we—become ‘winds-of-ash’ then gone—We! Then—never exist. For Genocide—-does destroy flesh—and—more than bone. Genocide destroys Blood-Rivers-of-Life.
‘You and I—and life about—as we shout ‘Love’ skyward—nothing stops our—Dance—You and I— Together! We know—nothing exists—without Love’s Power—Tower—Flower and Life… Life ignited—united—delighted—excited…We touch—hand-to-heart-to-spirit—and—let Eternal Dance begin…’
And! Beautiful you are…
‘Send Me an Angel’…by Klaus Meine and Rudolf Schenker—(Scorpions)
‘National Anthem’…by Lana Del Rey