Sunday, February 21, 2010

after rain

i want to know how smoky it can grow in here. i want to know how smoky i can grow. i light every small fire i can find and sit and wait for the spirit to come into my body and move me to my work. i have been listening to quiet music for some hours now. i have been feeling high and low.

there is something unfamiliar in this dream. i am no longer myself in my body, i am possessed. dressed in gauze i am clearly what i seem. i do not even try to hide, you see, it's all on my skin like rain which never leaves. it's all on the orchids that presided over my years. and the orchids are all over me.

i can only contemplate color to a degree. green is almost always what i see. but on a rare occasion i perceived blue and gold, some river or stream i've yet to meet. the color of this candle here the color of this heat.

and the rain can make a person curl and seethe. an orchid petal falls; the creature of a cave awakes. a walk we take becomes a crawl and the crawl claws at our faith. and we forget about the sky at night and the way we are swimming in space, and we think that there is some other place which could provide more than our place

and we forget about things deeper than marrow and choose to blame the bone, when in my bone i hold the bone of seven thousand who were born in a time now past. and the difference between them and me is nothing. and a difference is not to be found.

they came from the womb and arrived at the ground, and the same awaits me. behind the door, an apple tree. and beyond the tree a door.

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