Stitching, do we all learn that basic,
fundamental civilized skill, stich making:
post needle,
post thread,
post awl and shreds from tendons,
shift sense to Disnifity, a made up we
sewing our shadow
to our old man heels?
Robin Williams, killer ideas, just quit. OK.
Peter Pan Syndrome, Circa 1982 or so
The Wendy Dilema,
and the Peter Pan Syndrome
May be freedom, is a domain,
whence free thoughts, many old and idle worded
ideas once and ever
after filling singers minds, notes,
recorded in the ancient knowing way,
some stories live in tellings, in the details,
sub-routines, gnosis, re-cognosis, life runs on time.
Peace made with sleep, is peace. I agree.
Peace made by ceasing. Stop resisting, let go
let as when one breathes, let that mind be in you.
Finding your whole being in the form of spirit,
no less. Bound to earth due to physical functions.
Center mass.
Outlaw minds, made up from poor man stories,
desperados, nothing
to lose, but youth.
Some of us always survive.
We the autogoverned.
- archetypical noble outcast bull slayer
Believers in the bubble of all I know, you know?
Take no man's word. That's the Royal Society Motto.
In literaturely low places, among pamphleteers,
and gospel tract writers, I formed a character,
a model me, if I were finished, perfected, finalized,
as it were. Alert
to the warning,
once,
to me, beep,
you have need
of patience, followed nearly
instantly, as
in prayer, let patience have her way.
Anatomically correct mannequins made me blush.
Some thing -Barbie Doll Plastic Fantastic Lover
she is every where today,
Big Time ***** Boomer Barbies
from the 20th reunion, to the Fiftieth, nah
did not make it, literally could not afford the trip.
--- 1969-70, winter stretched into Spring
- {times slips as the loops tighten}
- fret not titslings
in the American Macho man's idea of Macho
has always triggered Loki sniggers in me.
Demeter, the image imagine. Illiterate me.
Seeing.
Demeter slung, on the tight turn to the point.
Wombed and un,
we live along the arteries of life,
beside rivers and surfless bays,
across trackless seas of grass…
that could be in the gut of a ruminant,
at a cosmic scale.
life lets me lose myself
