The Light
7-12-02
The world around me is beautiful,
Has been all day.
The light
It is a day of magic light
That transforms even the dirt into a new world.
The sun's light penetrates the forest canopy
Sun dappled
The mica in the mountain path reflects the light
I walk through all the sparkling doors of the little people who inhabit the mountain.
They have opened their doors and in I rush.
They offer me cappuccino to ease me past the real world,
To make my fingertips tingle,
To take me past reason.
I am surprised that it is a difficult world to understand.
My points of reference are so few and I have no footnotes to guide me.
There are lush green smells,
Tinkling twinkling,
Unthinking streams
I tumble down floating past last year's oak leaves.
I grow small and the soft ferns grow large.
I eat the fungus and into the past I dream.
I now get to choose my parents,
Choose my brain from among the jars sitting on the top shelf,
Choose never to forget not just every word,
Every perfume,
Every feeling,
Every idea,
Every mythology
Every shiny line of hair on every girls head.
I learn to wring time out so that every drop gets used ten times.
I learn to split myself up (not in a psycho way)
So that I can follow each impulse,
Each line of personality.
I am a poet.
I am a hells angel.
I am yours and yours and yours.
I am wild and tame.
I am an inventor.
I turn the world from greed to art.
I understand
The Old Testament:
Sun and moon and day and night and man and beast
Each with a splendor
Which man in all his vileness cannot
Set aside; each with an excellence
I remember every poem I've read
And more marvelous understand each.
Oh what a cappuccino vision this is.
The world around me is beautiful,
Has been all day.
The light
It is a day of magic light
That transforms even the dirt into a new world.
The sun's light penetrates the forest canopy
Sun dappled
The mica in the mountain path reflects the light
I walk through all the sparkling doors of the little people who inhabit the mountain.
They have opened their doors and in I rush.
They offer me cappuccino to ease me past the real world,
To make my fingertips tingle,
To take me past reason.
I am surprised that it is a difficult world to understand.
My points of reference are so few and I have no footnotes to guide me.
There are lush green smells,
Tinkling twinkling,
Unthinking streams
I tumble down floating past last year's oak leaves.
I grow small and the soft ferns grow large.
I eat the fungus and into the past I dream.
I now get to choose my parents,
Choose my brain from among the jars sitting on the top shelf,
Choose never to forget not just every word,
Every perfume,
Every feeling,
Every idea,
Every mythology
Every shiny line of hair on every girls head.
I learn to wring time out so that every drop gets used ten times.
I learn to split myself up (not in a psycho way)
So that I can follow each impulse,
Each line of personality.
I am a poet.
I am a hells angel.
I am yours and yours and yours.
I am wild and tame.
I am an inventor.
I turn the world from greed to art.
I understand
The Old Testament:
Sun and moon and day and night and man and beast
Each with a splendor
Which man in all his vileness cannot
Set aside; each with an excellence
I remember every poem I've read
And more marvelous understand each.
Oh what a cappuccino vision this is.
posted by Kajgreb | 5:52 PM
2 Comments:
Some would say we do get to choose our parents - some sort of working out a Karma thing.
As for understanding every poem you've ever read that would take some doing! Some of them are so obscure nobody understands them,
not even the guy who wrote them.
Ah what an excellent blog entry. So full of passion and emotion and the unveiling of possibilities!
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