It can be argued that more equitable distribution of access to resources is both more democratic as the majority of people can vote with their dollars for the kinds of goods and services we want, and better for economic growth and the optimal functioning of market economy.
Nobody is getting free stuff. This idea is a shared illusion. Everyone is getting paid. Those who produce and sell the products, those who work and pay taxes, those who are paid to contribute economically as consumers while keeping their dysfunctions out of the workplace, are all being paid. No one is losing. It's a win/win/win.
Many of the people reviled with concerned that they get "free stuff" are working very hard; and not getting sufficient compensation to pay for basic needs. Others are seriously disabled, requiring major accommodations to be effective employees. Most employers prefer not to make such accommodations (quite understandably), so these people can not be employed. Government or private concerns could develop special training and projects to employ those who could work, but rarely do.
Others, though not traditionally disabled have such chaotic lives (for any of many possible reasons) that they are unemployable.
Others will be employed and able to make their own contributions to the general revenue; but for right now that has not happened.
Yet, these people are all actively contributing to the overall economy while their lives are sorting out. Fewer people are actively sick and destitute on the streets, and thus not bringing down property values, causing problems for local businesses, presenting disincentives for people of means to shop or enjoy public space, or presenting even greater problems for health care and crime industries.
There appears to be a spell long cast upon the people to integrate into our basic understanding of the world this idea of market based economy as a given. Economics, money, even mathematics, are human constructs, ideas, not reality. When economic systems, ideas we have joined in promoting, do not well serve human enterprise and needs, the people ought not feel it is we who must adjust to serve the economy. Rather, it is those ideas that need adjustment to better fit our purpose.
However, as the logical progression of market thinking dictates, those who have benefited, who have bases of power that serve them well by their lights, want the rest to live and die in thrall to the system that these powerful command. A useful subterfuge is to convince the bulk of us that the system is not only inevitable, but in our best interest if only we will work hard enough and cast our doubts and blame into burning hatred for the designated losers.
At this time business and social enterprises of all kinds are going through revolutionary changes thus that business experience of the past into the present will be irrelevant to enterprises of even the near future.
Until we get somebody born in space, we are all tied to Earth.
when most of us are complacent, or too busy trying to tread water to notice much beyond our immediate sea, those with ugly axes needing grinding or with excellent profit projections on destruction are going to set the scene.
If they were listening, I would say:
figure it out
but first, think about your precepts
and, most importantly,
where you want to be
(not where you should; or where you could)
on the other side.
So envious of the unwanted? Quit your lousy job, too taxed, too overworked, too ignored.
Surely you deserve better those under. Enjoy your natural bounty, and all that our country offers.
Taxes? Ever it has been so in our culture. Jesus was born, so the story goes, when his mortal parents
were on the road to pay required tithes of their livelihoods. For the privilege of doing business, trading
our time and skills for pay, the top takes their cut. We pay our homage and percentage to our lord,
and hope his armies will protect us from invading hordes.
If you don’t like the system developed over eons for the benefit of those who have forced their way
to be in charge, create a better one. Then (here’s the trick) sell it to a majority; and make them care enough
to follow through.
Saturday, November 7, 2015
Thursday, September 17, 2015
Occupy Art (make Peace The issue)
Occupy Art (make Peace The issue)
In the free world
Do we?
Live like undead slaves?
Do we only move as directed, never dance freely in a whirling wind;
never touch finger to foreign finger for a thrill of acceptance?
Never sing music assimilated within from all the painful days
swirled into revel excitement? Do we not breathe and inhale airs
unexpected, strange and calling to communal desire?
Such solemn sensuality. Vibrant air lingering warm and sweet.
Images that stay. Music that accompanies a day’s montage of duties.
Theater as intimate ritual.
Dancers dance.
Musicians play.
Enchanting sylph narrates to sinuous back beat, tingle of chimes.
Occasionally emphasizes subtle percussions with intense expressions,
leaps, cunning stumbles, daring fall into spellbound sound, archetypal passion escapades,
poignant weeps, salient shouts to power.
Feel each instant’s music move in tune.
Reach into balance within limits of room, laws of motion, draw of ecstasy.
Each mood enhances expressive release, stretch for a piece reflective and deep.
Ordered vibrations cosset, hold like a heart-bound twin.
Sad biographies, personalities grandiose or subdued, but delusions.
Substitute equivalent qualities sold as sums that define identity.
Told how to hear or say. Mere chatter,
in the way ideations whether profound or silly are spread.
Sound from will, music imbues momentum,
interweaves with what keeps us who we become, overcome.
https://www.adbusters.org/blogs/adbusters-blog/occupywallstreet.html
In the free world
Do we?
Live like undead slaves?
Do we only move as directed, never dance freely in a whirling wind;
never touch finger to foreign finger for a thrill of acceptance?
Never sing music assimilated within from all the painful days
swirled into revel excitement? Do we not breathe and inhale airs
unexpected, strange and calling to communal desire?
Such solemn sensuality. Vibrant air lingering warm and sweet.
Images that stay. Music that accompanies a day’s montage of duties.
Theater as intimate ritual.
Dancers dance.
Musicians play.
Enchanting sylph narrates to sinuous back beat, tingle of chimes.
Occasionally emphasizes subtle percussions with intense expressions,
leaps, cunning stumbles, daring fall into spellbound sound, archetypal passion escapades,
poignant weeps, salient shouts to power.
Feel each instant’s music move in tune.
Reach into balance within limits of room, laws of motion, draw of ecstasy.
Each mood enhances expressive release, stretch for a piece reflective and deep.
Ordered vibrations cosset, hold like a heart-bound twin.
Sad biographies, personalities grandiose or subdued, but delusions.
Substitute equivalent qualities sold as sums that define identity.
Told how to hear or say. Mere chatter,
in the way ideations whether profound or silly are spread.
Sound from will, music imbues momentum,
interweaves with what keeps us who we become, overcome.
https://www.adbusters.org/blogs/adbusters-blog/occupywallstreet.html
Friday, August 14, 2015
August 15 ‘A Spontaneous Day of Peace’
August 15 ‘A Spontaneous Day of Peace’ - Social Media & The Blogosphere
Risen
Sky born, lifted
above
Water, Earth, primordial
mud.
Bare breath and lilting
light waft up, carry ephemeral
tongues, frenzied yet
exquisite. Exaltation, daring
to swoop, touch, climb,
pirouette.
Path briefly complete in
hover, amazed, over
flowering
waves.
Vision trails, engulfed in
smoke of smelting flame,
gasping, tropically
turning, blind, yet
beyond mistrust. A world
drifts. Black night backlit in
pinpricks. Atmosphere of
bioluminescence,
symphonic, symbiotic.
Listen as rippling elements
grow words, symbolic
histories, into a Summer game.
Out here, sparkling rain
weaves rainbows. Reverence
casts reflection as shimmer
and shadow play.
Up here, beyond boundaries
of ordinary days,
the only Commandment to
penetrate --
Be Peace
Lighting Candles
I wish you peace.
I wish you love.
I wish you time to
explore your essence.
I wish you safety.
I wish you patience.
I wish you visions,
sweet dreams and
sweeter days.
I wish the world
a sweeter disposition.
I wish for peace,
for love,
for better times.
I wish we all get
the wishes we yearn for.
I thrice charge these
wishes
and send them to
you.
Body Language
Teach Peace
Dancing in the
classroom
Body wisdom
reaches through neural
pathways,
regenerates whole to
whole,
soul to soul
touching seam
exactly
I feel you in my mind, my
spine.
Feel me dancing,
elongating muscles,
extending connections.
Logic of Evolution
Successful
progenitors
survive to sow seed
by force or
persuasion
or hiding off screen
or banding together
that more may
succeed,
and upgrade
conditions,
enhance the breed.
But, for such teams to work
well
we must
learn to respect, honor, and
trust;
expect to contribute, receive and
share,
accept the caring for and
care.
In community varied seeds are
sown.
Thus is a thriving future
grown.
Or, sibling rankling infests,
turns
on neighbors as
scorn.
Barriers proliferate,
preparations for war.
Who is emboldened by
destruction and
blood,
blasting
civilizations
back into mud?
Are these principled
people
filled with kindness and
joy?
Those who can create,
build;
the lacking destroy.
Guns, bombs, cruel words,
contempt, angry
sneers,
promotion of pain,
preying on fears,
paying us naught but
unneeded tears
and advancement of
certain
unsavory careers.
We can reject violent
lies,
realize the prize.
Here! before our
eyes.
Simple. Easy. Free.
Expect, accept,
embrace
the abundance
of Peace.
Earth Songs
Aching times.
Ghost singers on the prairie.
Snug little home, hearthfire familial peace
against rage and winds. Stone and
sacrifice.
Dust storms erode,
leave wastrel sentinels.
Far, in green glade mists
where ancient hymns are born,
chthonic wilds, primordial rune
castings.
Building over eternity, silent, archetype
of will, ponders.
Intrinsic senses, despair, bottomless
sorrow, loss of intent.
At the root of desire, truest wish to be
fashioned,
sold at price of who you were made against
your nature.
Wooden ships sail eternal sea.
Journey ages within these circles,
free.
Easy found trades, winds selling
seeds.
Back to the gardens of pagan lore
--
earth, air, sun, and transforming
water.
We wander days of potent
destiny,
telling the tale, deep mystical
incantation,
of a possible age in birth.
Love song 'tween man
and Earth.
we are not our ancestors
we are not religions
we are not lines on a map demarcated by
war
we are earth made vital
we are seeking minds inviting
partners
we are seed and core as skin sheds and
grows anew
we are me and you and all we become, alone
and together
we are as we agree, composed of dissonance
and harmony
thriving lives matter
Peace matters
Clean Up
I dislike the implied mess of
violence.
Peace is more tidy,
clean and inviting.
Why waste precious metal
in deadly intent
when a kickass party
can pay the rent --
a rant and rave relaxing
pent up pain.
Where’s the percentage of
gain?
The perception that rage
requires
release within this people
cage,
to ease torment of feeling
less
accepted,
Reflex flight or fight? Psychobabble
hype?
Nobody needs to violently die
today.
Luminescent Choir
Singers in the fog.
Outlying voices thin, yet
growing;
accruing sound, like liquid,
flowing.
Emoting tales of woe,
resistance.
Shouted sighs of denied
existence.
Insightful chants insist
persistence.
We never died. We're knitting
strong.
Born into a world-wide
village.
Only from ourselves to
pillage.
Hear our song.
Some bright good morning of
fish and loaves, cake and
wine,
capacious tribes adjoin in
movement.
Shining line of peace.
Terror’s fear released.
Music, celebration in the
streets.
Flower scented candles,
vigil against shame.
Blazing through miasmic mist,
Apollonian flame torches banners of
hostilities falsely
triggered
in our name.
Come harmonize, aloud:
We're alive and proud
to descant, dispel dank chill.
Sing to vanquish fog.
This is our greatest
duty
Live in peace,
believe in joy --
For as joy fills our
hearts, we leave no room for
doom/destruction
As joy fills our lives,
we learn to live
in
Outreaching
love
Deep healing
warmth
Safe harbor home
Benevolence
assured
Fulfilling Hope
Affirming Joy
Abiding Peace
Make Peace The
Issue
conversation with depression
Depression is not an illness. It is a way of organizing information.
There is not even objective meaning of "depression"; but rather a series of
"symptoms" some, none or any of which can be involved. Rather than lock people
into some specious diagnosis, we could better look at what is going on in their
lives and respond accordingly.
No matter your predispositions to this or that response to overbearing
stress, much more generally useful than (legally prescribed or illicitly
self-medicated) system skewing drugs would be learning better coping strategies.
For one: Focusing on satisfying personal experience rather than looping
into the pain of resignation and blame
Eventually, perhaps, the "scientists" will discover that correlation is not
causation and the brain/body/soul is a fully interactive system. The brain
activity associated with depression is the brain going through its processes to
tell you what is happening with your system. The brain activity will change as
you change.
challenge to depression
It's not my fault.
It's not my responsibility.
It's the world I live in.
I need to find a way to live in it comfortably.
Not the world "we" live in; the world "I" live in. We each have our own. It
is the ecostructure which informs our programming.
It is not my fault: I did not create this world. I was born into it. It is
the given to which I respond.
It is not my responsibility: It follows its own rules, not mine. I have no
way to control, but can only interact. I have my own responsibility, which is to
learn to develop and use my own resources, to take care of myself, to perform
the roles that are mine, which will expand this world to include my own
self-definitions.
To find ways in which to live comfortably in my world, even if they may (or
may not) include a great deal of discomfort, is about finding the ways to
express my true essence in joy and grace. It is pure waste to syphon off my
energy into self-blame, self-excoriation, self-punishment. By focussing that
energy into living comfortably in my world, I am allowing myself to emerge and
expand and energize into ideas and actions that fulfill both me and those
affected by the ripples.
I am talking about challenging depression, which to a large extent seems to
be based on feelings of guilt and inadequacy.
My world is the world that I was born and continue to evolve from, the
given background of everything/everyone/everymoment that affects and effects the
way I come to understand who I am by contrast and comparison. It is the world of
the social culture, the emotional relationships, the physical environment, the
airwaves and lightwaves, the nutritional components of the foods I have learned
to take in, the mass media and the personal conversations, the rules of conduct
both written and unwritten, the pressures and erosions and movements that have
formed my underlying assumptions and the structures in which they are
housed.
What I am suggesting here in my challenge is exactly what you speak of as
magick -- letting go of the old illusory order and recreating the self to
encourage new metaprogramming which will be both freeing and expanding in a
self-chosen direction.
If you do not like the space in which you dwell and move out or change
it/your perspective of it, you first must understand that this is a space which
you can leave or change, and where it is that you would better go/what changes
you would better devise. What is the "symptom" and what the "problem"? I am
saying the symptom is simply a misunderstanding of the placement of image and
background; the problem is the denigration of the self.
We can not move out of the all pervasive background. We cannot control it.
We can interact with it to create a better fit all the way around.
It (that is not your responsibility) is the world of everything that exists
before, ahead, around you that has helped to create your mindset, your basic and
consequent programming, your take on who you are and your place in that world.
It is NOT your responsibility (my responsibility). It is not my fault. It IS my
world. My responsibility, my need, in order to be the person who is ME, who
fulfills my roles for the good of my life and ultimately the lives I affect, is
to find ways to live in my world more comfortably. No contradiction. No
victimization, rather a breaking away from victimization. The world is not fate
to be mine -- it is the background for which I am the image.
I feel I am not communicating. Let me try from another entry point.
Have you ever been seriously depressed? I don't mean tragically unhappy,
but that irrational paralysis that keeps you from being able to bear the thought
of doing, being, continuing.
What is that thoughtstream, that blaring punishment just behind your eyes?
What is that voice saying?
"You're fat! You're lazy! Stupid! Incompetent! Selfish! Nobody likes you!
You're not worth dirt! You are committing the greatest possible sin just by
existing. The world would be better off without you; and you would be better off
without the world."
That is the world I am talking about. The world that gave you these ideas
in the first place. That world in which you fit only most uncomfortably. Yet, it
is the only world you know. It is the world that formed your knowledge, your
permitted ways of knowing. It is all the rules and structure that have given
form to your life. It is that harsh word from a stranger that you didn't
understand, and how mom made you feel and dad had scared you, and the sly look
as a schoolmate whispers into another's ear, a look aimed at you. Or, hell, it
could be hell. It could be the people dropping dead around you, and what could
you possibly do to make up for surviving. It could be a sacred promise you made
to a dying friend that could never be fulfilled. It could be rape; it could be
terrifying violence. But you got it wrong. You blamed yourself. And the reasons
you got it wrong go back to that world, not to you.
Saturday, August 8, 2015
8/8/15
Exercise
Walk this expansive garden with
me.
Don’t talk.
Don’t take up your
thoughts
wondering what to
say.
Breathe.
Walk freely.
Air out and in.
Imagine.
This magnificent
garden,
colours alive.
What do you see, smell,
sense?
Who is this you with
senses,
with imagination,
with me
in this garden?
Who would you be, what would you
do,
if time and space were
infinite?
Don’t talk.
Imagine.
Walk.
Breathe.
politics
infinite regression of change and
resistance
multi-rhythmed rhyme
singing into the winds of
change
to move their vector more in
line
with where we wish to arrive
astral vision
Mystery mists of history holy
lightening heightening sky.
Desirous anticipation.
Early pinks ascend from eerie
violets.
Sun’s lifting eye twinkles like a
happy kitten,
tummy exposed for
adoration.
Omens, prophecy, hope for enduring
happy returns,
quests beyond horizons now
observed.
(without gravity, how can we fall
... or love?)
Aching for stars, planets,
infinite,
silent assent that means all is
promised.
I touch a cosmic
peak,
breathless at such
altitude.
Generation
Infinite, eternal, these are
words,
maps to definitions, not what
is.
Creation never ends, never begins
again,
not repetition but
reflection.
Legends and runes. Ritual
regression.
Significant omens.
Ravens forsake flocks, ranges
skewed.
In primordial recesses of a
sigh
trembling hearts enact a pact of
solitude,
invent machinations of separation,
journey through
despair.
Sovereign brains evolve, adapt to
dangers;
patterns that evoke anger,
fear.
Scanning eyes, ears,
nostrils
filter through
parameters,
call out Warning!
Warning!
far too often, far too
loud.
There is no guide, no
authority,
none but me, repeatedly
mirrored.
Each step, each
succession
undertaken
in idiosyncratic
interpretation.
What will become of all these
"I"s
staring through,
demanding
retribution, bare, raw
justice?
Respectable explanation.
Rigorous notation.
Scores, codes, clocks,
keystones.
Laws and theories developed to
describe
thin segment of encompassment
accessible to sense and
reason.
Early morning of soft savannah
wakens to cloud and
mist.
Waft of tranquil
distillation
soothing startled breasts
--
Ripples quietly
express
infinitely regressing
first cause
last effect.
I Have a Secret
(remind me when I
flail)
Relinquish distorted burdens,
proddings,
guilts detached from sticky past
beyond.
As much as change is, permanence
exists
as measured
landscape.
Stories still stir primal
wonder.
Hopes, wishes, aspirations,
familiar allies
to focus change, focus mind within
changes.
On reflection,
certainties of youth
acquire a different
truth.
Re-direction creates a different
view.
Revealed feelings new to
introspection.
Not what you
expected.
Different cues
mix into different
moods.
There are infinite paths to
imagine.
So many worlds – divergent
time.
A kiss may awaken a
queen
or set a crone to
dreaming
or be seen as defilement of that
most
pernicious kind.
Where we arrive, what bliss we
find
outside the reach of simple limb
extension
is not about up and down
retention
or spiral twines.
Your eyes draw me,
they fill in the
lines
with infinite
perspective.
We breathe in expansive
comprehension,
exhale,
design a widened sky to fly
--
more beauty to
infuse.
8/8
truth is not narrow
it is infinite
the narrow way
is fear's, or merely a
tunnel
on the way to truth
find a quiet place
relax
let your mind drift and
wander
fall into infinite
awareness
take a leisurely stroll through
what feels good, right,
beautiful
engage?
Beyond stratosphere,
infinite bliss,
the whole of the
real.
Daring to explore pleasure,
infinite awareness.
Leisurely share what feels genial,
good, light.
Infinite muse lit lanterns take
wing,
illuminate eternity.
Cells disperse out from infinite
regression,
demand expanding
territory,
redefinition, delineation,
demarcation.
All the places of
possibility
open to scrying eyes.
I am the universe of time and
space
awaiting birth.
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
belated - Kala Snowflower
I just oh so late learned of Kala/ Ix'chel Neve's
passing
My heart is drowning in tears
My eyes search for her blessing
https://om2317.wordpress.com/2013/07/06/enchanting-for-kala-snowflower/
My heart is drowning in tears
My eyes search for her blessing
https://om2317.wordpress.com/2013/07/06/enchanting-for-kala-snowflower/
Nuit Report: weekly astrology Feb 27-Mar 6: Full Moon in Virgo. Matters of "Ultimate Concern".
I dedicate this Nuit Report to the memory
of Ix'chel Neve. A bright beacon of Love and Light in this world, who continues
to open hearts and inspire even as she has transitioned to the other side. A
free spirit, poet, and Sister who's openness and shared experience has been
unutterably beautiful. We have collectively received a great gift in her, just
by her existence on this plane, and she will be terribly missed by many.
This week we have several aspects and events that invite us to strongly consider matters of “Ultimate Concern”. Venus makes strong contacts with the ongoing (and culminating) Uranus-Pluto square. We are called to ask ourselves what it is that we truly value—what will matter in the end when we question the meaning of our lives? Do we live in a manner that aligns us with what we truly hold with love, beauty, and value?
The Full Moon at 14 degrees Virgo conjuncts Black Moon Lilith thurs March 5. This asks us to become integrated (or into integrity) with our passion, instincts and sexuality, connecting it with our sense of spirituality, love, and intelligence. We are invited to be more whole, more free. Why are we alive? If today was the last day, what would you most want to make sure that you did? Said? Felt? Loved? Experienced?
“Do not be afraid.
The God is passionate.
The Goddess compassionate.
In Death prepare to live again
Come Spring."
excerpt from "Change"Ix'chel Jaguar, October 2014. (C. 2014 , Michelle Neve)”
This week we have several aspects and events that invite us to strongly consider matters of “Ultimate Concern”. Venus makes strong contacts with the ongoing (and culminating) Uranus-Pluto square. We are called to ask ourselves what it is that we truly value—what will matter in the end when we question the meaning of our lives? Do we live in a manner that aligns us with what we truly hold with love, beauty, and value?
The Full Moon at 14 degrees Virgo conjuncts Black Moon Lilith thurs March 5. This asks us to become integrated (or into integrity) with our passion, instincts and sexuality, connecting it with our sense of spirituality, love, and intelligence. We are invited to be more whole, more free. Why are we alive? If today was the last day, what would you most want to make sure that you did? Said? Felt? Loved? Experienced?
“Do not be afraid.
The God is passionate.
The Goddess compassionate.
In Death prepare to live again
Come Spring."
excerpt from "Change"Ix'chel Jaguar, October 2014. (C. 2014 , Michelle Neve)”
Michelle wrote poetry for over 40 years
starting at the age of 7. She left 17 books in digital form spanning the years
from 1997-2014 (as well as more in handwritten form). Here are selections from
some her many poems. As of this writing her books are being edited and will be
self-published in the early summer."
http://michelleneve.net/poetry/
http://michelleneve.net/poetry/
Kala Joy
reading Poetry at Beards of Valenccio - Aug 2013
Published on Mar 4, 2015
Kala Joy Neve (aka Ix'chel Jaguar) reading her
own poetry at the Beards of Valenccio Art Salon on Aug 16, 2013. The 3 pieces
she reads are In the Center, Wasp Dreams, and Cancer.
Directions from
dreamtime:
Go
to the same address
then
down 1,000 stories.
Going
back to the Beginning
before
the beginning
when
Nothing had a name
but
everything had voices
for
singing,
stumble
upon a boy
alone
in the forest
playing
guitar
revealing
such intimacies
you
can only
watch
sideways
hidden
among leaves
as
the music
takes
you into
his
whole.
Then
run
deeper
and through a violet door
between
pine and stripped oak
and
enter a gingerbread house
of
lovers no longer in cages
where
at birth they were welcomed
by
a witch so hungry to eat
sweet
innocence
but
children can be tricky
so
for thirty years
she's
been slow cooking
on
the flame
and
the children are grown now
yet
linger among the cookie crumbs,
holding
hands, awaiting
the
main course
and
dancing circles
around
the oven.
Then
open the door slowly
and
enter through
the
hot embers,
clinging
to your robes,
your
conical hat burning away.
Skin
and fat bubble
and
burst, juices flow,
basted
in your blood
made
savory.
Through
particalized eyes
watch
as the Children
of
Light wipe you from
their
lips with kisses.
Back
again
to
the beginning.
There
was a flute
and
a mermaid playing
and
her lover praising
her
Beauty.
And
everyone took turns
sitting
on a golden ball
that
bloomed petals
while
each Buddha beamed
and
miles away
a
single voice
balanced
on a precipice
not
realizing
he
was smiling
as
he fell over the edge
scattering
coins.
(c) Kala Snowflower
Kala Joy Neve (aka Ix'chel Jaguar) reading her
own poetry at the Beards of Valenccio Art Salon on Aug 16, 2013. The 3 pieces
she reads are In the Center, Wasp Dreams, and Cancer.
Go to the same address
then down 1,000 stories.
Going back to the Beginning
before the beginning
when Nothing had a name
but everything had voices
for singing,
stumble upon a boy
alone in the forest
playing guitar
revealing such intimacies
you can only
watch sideways
hidden among leaves
as the music
takes you into
his whole.
Then run
deeper and through a violet door
between pine and stripped oak
and enter a gingerbread house
of lovers no longer in cages
where at birth they were welcomed
by a witch so hungry to eat
sweet innocence
but children can be tricky
so for thirty years
she's been slow cooking
on the flame
and the children are grown now
yet linger among the cookie crumbs,
holding hands, awaiting
the main course
and dancing circles
around the oven.
Then open the door slowly
and enter through
the hot embers,
clinging to your robes,
your conical hat burning away.
Skin and fat bubble
and burst, juices flow,
basted in your blood
made savory.
Through particalized eyes
watch as the Children
of Light wipe you from
their lips with kisses.
Back again
to the beginning.
There was a flute
and a mermaid playing
and her lover praising
her Beauty.
And everyone took turns
sitting on a golden ball
that bloomed petals
while each Buddha beamed
and miles away
a single voice
balanced on a precipice
not realizing
he was smiling
as he fell over the edge
scattering coins.
(c) Kala Snowflower
ENCHANTING (FOR KALA SNOWFLOWER)
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