free flow #20

new moon in sag. tired from being up late surfing the web post class and drawing down the moon. i don’t know what to say. my words are few. feeling a lot but not in a wordfull way, more like the way the creatures feel like being a lobster like being a snail like being something not totally human, like being an ancestor in the evolutionary sense, being a single celled bacteria, being a salmon, being an octopus, being in the sea, being free of the spliced up divisive everything we do as humans thing, being something soft and welcoming, being without codes and cards, without pots and pans, without owning anything, without fighting over land, being without the railroad riding upon us. being. like crayons melting into a saucepan, being cooked by a child’s hand. feeling. like the full moon tipping over to ice the spongy cake of my thirsty skin. longing. like the howling wolf into the darkness that once the sun rises acts like the night never brought that out in him. i feel so out of it. i feel so in of it. the sky is silky this morning. greyish blue silk wrapping the earth in peace. a yellow crane looms high in the sky ready to make another skyscraper to fill with people to make the money to house the rich to work the poor to make divisions between sky and floor. layer cakes and dreams on hold. sacrifice what you want in order to cope. all that stuff. we all know it well. lifestyle is earned and not given. hell is the pepper not down below. fears loom large in every heart and are projected outwardly onto others to avoid seeing into your own heart. right? how much easier to look outside of the self to see what is awful, than to see it within. i am a shadow walker always looking at shadows inside the skin. some might say i over-identify with the the shadows but i don’t agree. some of us need to be tour guides of the underworld and i like it. joy is not light. pain is not dark. joy is also dark and pain is also light. mix that shit up, yo. ah, but you gotta pick a team, dontcha. cause looking into the unknown is too vast, too scary, too weird. it’s much easier to just pick a team and root for it. to just know what you want and hope to get it. to not ponder the vastness and the way life is always moving and dying. where is this coming from? i don’t know. the moon comes out of my mouth this morning and for the next three weeks. the moon spills into pools of silvery water at my feet. the moon is the cream in my coffee and the scarf around my neck. the moon is the tune i sing in the shower. the moon has gotten me all wet and now i must hang these soaked clothes to dry and towel off before i arrive in public to speak like a dry and competent sun cause that is what my culture wants. dry logical life giving sunshine to make sense of the chaos. what happens if i flood the surface like the nile with my moon talk? what happens on the moon, stays on the moon….

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