WALKING JESUS
Calling Elvis
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I
Am
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I
Was
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9
i?
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Ihavebeenwalkingforeveralongroadsnowheremappedbutuponthesoulsofotherssuchasmyself
Iambleandstrolltrekandtrudgeupanddownalongthestraightawaysallaroundthis
twistedglobe
ihavebecomeawareofmuchthatidonotunderstandandunderstandmuchofmuchand
somuchmorofmanymanymanythingsasyettoappear………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….enough
theappearanceofrealityisattheveryleasttheappearanceofrealityandisreallyrealityas
soonasitisapparentnotbecomesapparent
iseeaworldaroundusallthatyouareforbiddenbyyourowncommandmentstoobserve
iseethatuniversewithinusallandallarounditself
ihaveandhaddelightedinitsbeautyfallenforitswilesand
ishallneverconfinemyselftoyourlight
icannotreadbutiknowmanylinesofthewrittenwordandisayuntoyouthatwereyou
luckyenoughtoseeeventhroughaglassdarklyyouwoulddespairforyourownblindness
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Enough
words, phrases sentences and quanta of approximated meaning flow through my mind as do the waters of a tidal river such as the ancient hudson along whose shores i have goneandcome directly to the sea flow the droplets of its 2 foot fall and directly backward up to the troy dam flow its tidal currents during the appropriate relationship between the earthen satellite of the sun and its bounden servant the moon of insidious intent forces flow all about us we observe their effects in the wind of blowing leaves and trilling branches the inescapable patterns of clouds and sunlight the rivers especially of estuarial nature such as my hudson sister forgive me pal
as it is i am able to see straight ahead and to walk in my sights direction so too am I able to think in straight lines and both observe the rules as they are presented to us all in some fashion of language or other of discourse and logic i am able to do so much more i am no mathematician nor do I desire to be i do however enjoying conversing with myself by number sometimes with the outside world too
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at times daylighttime nightfalling and nightofdarkness times happysadandallthetimes i fail to accept as more than the illusional delusions of the selfidentified slaves to sight and sound and touch taste and odor around me the words i have just employed to express the inexpressible truth i have been chosen to behold the river flows up and down i wake and sleep the earth whirls its merry way subject to those rules we have chosen to apply to our consciousness of their elementary flux and flow i know no equations hold no degrees of any sort i recognize the inseparable reality of turbulence and chaos of order and disorder language and numbers awareness and denial i refuse to bind them up freeze them in place name and thereby destroy that which i have rendered concept thereby depriving it of life i know nothing you know nothing we know nothing the known becomes the unknown by virtue of its being known
sometimes i ride the arrow backward into the i before i was i sometimes i am wombbound and at peace with the words and numbers bounding and mixing together across the playground of my consciousness. Sometimes i would remain the foetus wrapped in cloths of embryonic fluid poised
upon the threshold of something i have no desire to experience a world i find a most uncomfortable
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fit it is at that time of one more prebirth desiring to remain the unbirthed that i most likely tell the beads of my lifes refusal i move toward the separation of sperm and ovum body and soul consciousness
desufer i evah yhw
hanavrin dereffo neeb evah i
ssenllits drawot staeb traeh ytpme ym em on uoy on ecaps or emit on fo ytilaer eht ni kcab taolf i
i have no answer i recognize the futility of seeking i wind about myself beneath the pines of our neglected yard i inhale the scent of chattering nattering extravagantly producing reproducing faltering and dying animals i would despair were despair an available option. i pray for oblivion cough my own spoor into the mockery
would that she could allow me to disappear into at least a temporary death wherefrom i might succeed in successfully resisting another round of the joke some so reverently call life she never fails bless and damn her only once did I nearly escape her restoration
beneath my favorite severed and split up tree I lay for most of several days pal had been called to some duty or other as often happens. I nearly made it shes too much the feather of her awareness brushed light into the darkening sky of my current identity I knew I was lost I resisted she returned me to imperfection
she found me unconscious or so she later declared my curse is never to be free of awareness i felt her approach cringed as her whispered caress stripped away my will all she did is known to me was experienced as it would have been by one not nearly so close to expiration as was i i am required to love her to accept her but i shall never appreciate the power she holds over me and her willful i do believe twisted employment of it
hself ma i i am told i need no reminders were to be left to my own devices i would be no more no less drow ton tirips ton ylno hself!!!!!
HSELF HLESF HSELF
HUMANFREAKINGBEINGFLESHANDBLOOD
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you are flesh of my flesh body and blood of all that we are and you are also the word the spirit and the anointed one pallie whispered we all even the least of us are all that we are and are as a condition of the reality we term life unable to escape from the conundrum even death offers no freedom for is it not an essential condition of life of the flesh poor poor yoshi my more than brother and less than equal
her voice sweet as the scent of lilacs in the spring her touch as delicious as chocolate wrapped around my tongue she gathered from all around us in the wilds of our overrun suburban lawn tendrils of raspberry and commenced to wind them about my unremembered naked form someone elses arms and black lace thighs stuttered ripe red fruit liquid and pure someone elses hands grew heavy with abundant blossoms anothers brow wept a song of thorns his eyes sparkled with garbled tears and glittering pain
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24 16 2 5 16 1
9 24 1 13 16 2 20 8 5 9 23 20 23 15 18 4 12 4 7 19 . .
mi delian thgir ni
I have much to tell you but words are inadequate for the message. I am not Lazarus, but I am newly returned. Oh, hell, that’s not it at all. That’s not what I meant at all. And numbers! Numbers trail on and on so many grains of sand the eternal returning to the infinite from which theyit never came. My idiotic substitutions serve no purpose other than to confront others with their own inability to know the things I know but which I am unable to express. I shall become the mute prophet I was ever meant to be. Follow me if you dare. I walk not up Calvary’s hill but upon a more dangerous and painful way. My Pal of my once upon some now or never said it best when it comes to you.
“You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog.”
Now, now, please don’t cry.
