i don't know if this means anything at all, but it seems to keep seeming to want to seem like something, so i go to sleep and hope it's gone in the morning and when i wake up the first thought is that yes it's gone finally that's a good thing but then when i wake up more i know that it's obviously not true. it's a good haunting, a fine haunting, and it makes me more courageous. this heart is like a leopard, and it has a tooth still stuck on the edges of it, just in case there is any doubt. listen. i can't hear anything this morning and that's how i know i am no longer above the ground.
this is what i heard: it's a very dark and mysterious thing, this cave, this cave that reads like a morning, and written on the walls are things that i know will make sense on another morning. these are words in a language that i speak, and these are symbols in a religion i know, and this is a sketch of something that i love. but i also understand that from these angles, i am all aphasia, look at my thumbs all messy trying to measure the depth of the world, knowing full well that its extension is shortened considerably, and sometimes even a little numb.
but this is what i heard: this is a dark and mysterious cave. this cave, this cave takes the place of a moment, takes over a moment, becomes more than a moment until i can start to see that my small achy neck is trying to twist and turn to see everything and taste everything, even though the crevices are all still hidden far from this particular moment. this neck is trying to lead the body into another moment altogether, to make love to the entire world in one fluid motion, but every time i try, the world is moving back over me and around me and becomes much bigger than i thought. this is the arrogance of the age at work, this is the weight of the ego on the age, this is the way thumbs move through the cracks in the mystery of the age.
this is exactly what i heard: this cave, this moment, there is no difference, and no separation, and the same is said for that thing that is you and that thing that is the world, and when there is no longer a subject and no longer an object, the moment and the cave become longer, longer enough to hold themselves and you will slip through like a mermaid, the dark kind, the ones who know how to slip back and forth and create a moment on the walls that will be written on the walls by the next morning. in this space, everything has to be forgotten, this is the space where the bottom of your feet and the calluses of your hands grow electric because they are afraid of letting go and more afraid than ever because you're just becoming aware that you already let go, a long time ago, and are just now getting around to noticing that the walls are a color altogether different, and the sky is the color it is supposed to be for the time of the day and the angles of the sun and the fact of it being the sky from inside a cave.
this is exactly what i heard: this cave is a moment this moment is a cave and here you are going to have to leave everything that you thought you wanted or needed behind, because if you don't drown then you won't get to become the next thing, and that's more important than being conscious while dying, more important than trying to remember the last kiss of something that went away, and more important than doing what you're told. it's always better to assume that you've been forgotten than trying to find evidence to the contrary, because no one can escape cleanly from their own lobster traps when they mark themselves publicly, over and over, as the perfect resident of the same traps. but if you're willing to stay awake through the moment of your own death, we will take you by the mouth and drag you down under where you will be torn to pieces, but we need something to hang onto, and the edges of your words are so very nice, and just enough, and just enough flash of the spirit on your lips to grasp firmly, and down it goes like a dance between the swimmer and the sea, and we absorb and reflect and replace each other until there is no longer any difference. and when you are done, you will need to leave everything you thought you wanted or needed. and when you are done again, everything you love will be torn from you. and when you are done, when you are done, when you are done, you will evolve and revolve fast enough to become the revolver and the revolution, the core and the kore, and when you wake up, you will find yourself breathing, and that means this is the best morning of your life so far.
this is what i heard: it's a very dark and mysterious thing, this cave, this cave that reads like a morning, and written on the walls are things that i know will make sense on another morning. these are words in a language that i speak, and these are symbols in a religion i know, and this is a sketch of something that i love. but i also understand that from these angles, i am all aphasia, look at my thumbs all messy trying to measure the depth of the world, knowing full well that its extension is shortened considerably, and sometimes even a little numb.
but this is what i heard: this is a dark and mysterious cave. this cave, this cave takes the place of a moment, takes over a moment, becomes more than a moment until i can start to see that my small achy neck is trying to twist and turn to see everything and taste everything, even though the crevices are all still hidden far from this particular moment. this neck is trying to lead the body into another moment altogether, to make love to the entire world in one fluid motion, but every time i try, the world is moving back over me and around me and becomes much bigger than i thought. this is the arrogance of the age at work, this is the weight of the ego on the age, this is the way thumbs move through the cracks in the mystery of the age.
this is exactly what i heard: this cave, this moment, there is no difference, and no separation, and the same is said for that thing that is you and that thing that is the world, and when there is no longer a subject and no longer an object, the moment and the cave become longer, longer enough to hold themselves and you will slip through like a mermaid, the dark kind, the ones who know how to slip back and forth and create a moment on the walls that will be written on the walls by the next morning. in this space, everything has to be forgotten, this is the space where the bottom of your feet and the calluses of your hands grow electric because they are afraid of letting go and more afraid than ever because you're just becoming aware that you already let go, a long time ago, and are just now getting around to noticing that the walls are a color altogether different, and the sky is the color it is supposed to be for the time of the day and the angles of the sun and the fact of it being the sky from inside a cave.
this is exactly what i heard: this cave is a moment this moment is a cave and here you are going to have to leave everything that you thought you wanted or needed behind, because if you don't drown then you won't get to become the next thing, and that's more important than being conscious while dying, more important than trying to remember the last kiss of something that went away, and more important than doing what you're told. it's always better to assume that you've been forgotten than trying to find evidence to the contrary, because no one can escape cleanly from their own lobster traps when they mark themselves publicly, over and over, as the perfect resident of the same traps. but if you're willing to stay awake through the moment of your own death, we will take you by the mouth and drag you down under where you will be torn to pieces, but we need something to hang onto, and the edges of your words are so very nice, and just enough, and just enough flash of the spirit on your lips to grasp firmly, and down it goes like a dance between the swimmer and the sea, and we absorb and reflect and replace each other until there is no longer any difference. and when you are done, you will need to leave everything you thought you wanted or needed. and when you are done again, everything you love will be torn from you. and when you are done, when you are done, when you are done, you will evolve and revolve fast enough to become the revolver and the revolution, the core and the kore, and when you wake up, you will find yourself breathing, and that means this is the best morning of your life so far.
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