Nº. 1 of  6

The Sacred Disorder of my Spirit

La Fille de l'Eau & Her Liquid Nocturnal Wanderings

[Stay out with me tonight

There’s some blankets in the back

Caught on Autumn’s edge out near the woods once again,

but this time no one expects us back…]

 

[So let me be bold or I’m gonna be bold…]

 […at least let this semi-perfect scene to be ours

So remain relaxed and remember that

there were once more temperate Novembers…]

Take me into Tour .S k i n.


Plant the seeds of an Ivory White Lily

Play the ghost of Autumn’s Lullaby…


It was somebody,

a Woman,

It was a Delicate Crime…


When will we discover


The place that we buried .L o v e.


And .R e s u r r e c t. all of the .L o v e r s.


We’ve deprived so long of one another…


.Baby I’m on my way.


“It is June, and I am tired of being brave.”

[Anne Sexton, The Truth The Dead Know]


I’ve been drinking up all the sweet tea

It was made just for me

 

I’ve been ramblin’

I’m just driftin’…

I exist. It is soft, so soft, so slow.

And light: it seems as though it suspends in the air.

It moves.

[Jean-Paul Sartre]

Their love went beyond all bonds of love.
They danced on every star and planet in the universe…

I will not harbor negative thoughts

The harbor of my mind is an open bay, the only access to the Island of my Self (which is a young and volcanic island, yes, but fertile and promising).

This island has been through some wars, it is true, but it is now committed to peace, under a new leader (me) who has instituted new policies to protect the place. And now - let the word go across the seven seas - there are much, much sctricter laws on the books about who may enter this harbor.

You may not come here anymore with your hard and abusive thoughts, with your plague ships of thoughts, with your slave ships of thoughts - all these will be turned away. Likewise, any thoughts that are filled with angry or starving exiles, with malcontents and pamphleteers, mutineers and violent assassins, desperate prostitutes, pimps and seditious stowaways - you may not come here anymore, either.

Cannibalistic thoughts, for obvious reason, will no longer be received. Even missionaries will be screened carefully, for sincerity.

This is a peaceful harbor, the entryway to a fine and proud island that is only now beginning to cultivate tranquillity.

If you can abide by these new laws, my dear thoughts, then you are welcome into my mind - otherwise, I shall turn you all back toward the sea fron whence you came.

This is my mission.

And it will never end.

Blind Willie Johnson - Dark was the night…

And the days go by,

like a strand in the wind,

in the web that is my own,

I begin again…


Nº. 1 of  6