Tuesday, April 7, 2015

6577. IF ONLY THE WHIMSICAL NATURE OF THINGS

IF ONLY THE WHIMSICAL 
NATURE OF THINGS
In the apparent forms of lifelessness we are living,
there are images which flicker and fade, and others that
somehow remain : the hungry child with flies on its eyes
versus the puffball sluicepipe of presidents and senators
barking at microphones. The church-mouse steeple of
deep despair on those runway models' faces. I learn
to look away. I learn to look away.
-
And now, in a distant hilltop town, where the streams are
running Springtime thick and the deer and geese are coming
down, I sense the light of Being in each thing. If only the
whimsical nature of presence was more in apparent in
all that's done  -  I think then Mankind could be happy.
-
The sour-ball gum-drop of bitter and tart is what tightens
and makes a grimace of all our faces : the holiday kind,
the funeral kind, the policeman, the priest and the doctor
kind; the school-marm and the principal, alike, wear 
their own coats of blasphemy so as to get where 
they are going. To arise from their graves and 
aspire, to where their sunflower wishes to go.

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