She & It

To come to an understanding of the predicament, there is much to be unearthed, and much to be washed away. Running into these persons who would not have been encountered in any other way, the intuition stepped in and led you there. There were signals, gestures of the universe opened to you, there to be read and responded to, there beyond the feeble hand and tongue, untranslatable except simply as here. Shooting into the light.

Here, listening to Kate Bush with no other intention than to do some preliminary work of sorting out my life. This is the work that needs to be done before I am to proceed further. Without this, all is a muddle, and cannot proceed. There has been a long hiatus from self, evident in the activities of erosion, entrance into worlds of others where one does not belong, far-flung internally corrosive intentions that the unconscious works at against the grain of the intuition. The intuitive method must return, must come back into play, as it is needed. We all need each other, and these persistent ones who seem to value the brother who has dropped by the wayside and may never be heard of again.

With her, there is a warning away from relationships of the ruinous kind. She seeks a dropping away of the game and weaves herself back down to zero. She is totally there; she is two eyes of the ultimate. She extends herself to us as a new friend, and there is the euphoria of the first day between us, as we wheel around like absurdity itself, the fool for a day who cares nothing for the reactions of the backdrop people.

From here it is backward, as her words point. Backward toward a simpler design, a more workable plan, a modesty that still will not give up on ecstasy. Let’s wipe, sweep, and rampage that bullshit away. Let’s erase some of the years, some of the murderous instances. Let’s give but not be taken. We are the Fool, but we are no fools. One honest eyeful, one new breath, one gasp of an extraterrestrial sincerity that might be held in damaged lungs a lifetime long and nourish. Back then to the clean surface, the few words, the grace which accompanies every birth. With this music, I’ll be there, now and at the end of time. They will find their way out of this zone; they will migrate without a plan but with all the love that flows through their limbs. Unfortunately, the scars cannot be removed, but they can be caressed, tattooed, and laughed at.

Thanks also to her, who calls as a voice of belief and who is similarly beyond the beyond and who yet possesses a heart, and always will. Let’s gather our notes from the beyond. Thanks to she who encourages shorter saner projects and who would encourage him to go to Berlin in the winter, to put something major behind him and to tap at the future, or just sit dumbfounded in the presence, but of nothing and what matter. And to the sisters who are aglow. Who don’t seem to know this demon, who do not seek to awaken the slumbering beast. What did it, and how far back does that ricocheting crime lie? Wake or drown, the boat is loaded with disease and patience has been worn thin.

Remember how you did it in the past. Remember that you are meant to fall into the arms of the longed-for. Remember your dreams before you reach for the coffee.