Mindwalk, to suebird

[Guest guest]

I walk around for hours in the canyons of my mind

a mine-field of ashen turn-ups and historical events

sublimity bleeds passion, a stark white anteroom

here

I have made myself quite comfortably numb and sit

in the electrified chair and conventional themes

ad hoc

watch water-clouds of relentless stalk my hibernating

swallows

(A choking throat)

I gulp in midnight airs and curls of

lacerations and pontifications, a declaration

of One True Love

here

demolished and desecrated I invent

Logic and Circumstantial Evidence

here

I listen for the words of the Ages of Sages:

Whitmanesque: " I contain Multitudes "

Burlesque: " Come up and See me Sometime "

Ramanaesque: " Throw your troubles to the Wind.

Turn within and find Peace. "

Rumiesque: " You may not like what I am going to tell you

you are stuck now you must seek nothing but the source. "

Dantesque: " Through me the way into the suffering city,

Through me the way to eternal pain

Through me the way that runs among the lost.

Justice urged on my high artificer;

My maker was divine authority,

The highest wisdom, and the primal love.

Before me nothing but eternal things were made,

And I endure eternally.

Abondon every hope, ye who enter "

Nisargadattaesque: " All you can teach is understanding

the rest comes on its own. "

Wadsworthesque: " Apparled in celestial light.

the glory and the freshness of a dream. "

Byronesque: " Now tis doomed to know the worst,

and break at once or yield to song. "

Lawrencesque: " And so, I have missed my chance with one

of the lords of life, and I have something to expiate: a pettiness. "

 

And so

I have walked into these and other great words, the words inside books

inside the minds of greatness and the question of smallness

I am the words that fall out of your heart

these pages are written: I am the book you

hold in you trembling hands, I am the scent of lillacs in

the stench of every ending, I am absolutely the revolving doors

a library of notes in the passing of time-frames

held inside the photographs of your loved ones faces, their twinkling eyes;

who perish like dreams of alive-ness, a hinterland

a butterfly, I swoon at your feet, lift me and cherish me

I am your Spirit, these words that haunt and surprise

I yellow and turn to dust in your hands,

 

a deer moves from a clearing to be seen

stands 5 feet away, we nod in approval

and speak these words:

 

Enter Me At Your Own Risk

 

 

 

 

Love,

Anna