Snakes

    forest and the heart

    i was walking in the woods when a tree talked back to me
    i didn’t know if i had died or if my feet should flee
    i didn’t mean to harm you or your holiness to thwart
    the forest loves to hide but i love a wooden heart

    how many gods are in the wood or music in the air
    what strangers in the shadow have paused to wonder where
    there’s a sense of someone here, a landscape full of art
    i’m here to talk to trees and i carry a wooden heart

    there’s a silhouette of palm trees against the sunset sky
    there’s a river with a snake, there’s a splinter in my eye
    she answers me in rhymes like a perfect counterpart
    the forest loves to hide but i hear a wooden heart

    the highest queen of hiding, she’s a shadow in the grass
    but now i’ve seen an outline and now she’s made a pass
    i stop to buy some tissues from the nearest mini-mart
    the forest on her sleeve and i’m here for a wooden heart

    it’s plainer than the blue a hundred reasons she would hide
    i dream we’re sitting on the porch or going for a ride
    but i know pretty well how feet get caught up in the dirt
    i came to talk to trees and i believe a wooden heart

    my bank account is empty and she doesn’t ask for more
    if fireflies are golden then we’re never looking poor
    the pattern in her lights could even read my natal chart
    the forest is a mystery but i see a wooden heart

    sometimes the way is open, sometimes the thicket’s close
    sometimes the river’s empty, sometimes it’s on the nose
    i’m walking without shoes, i see no way to restart
    the forest isn’t home but she warms a wooden heart

    am i still a dream for her or did i carve a face
    did i paint a scene for her or am i in a race
    am i thirsty in the pouring rain or stung by a poison dart
    the forest is a maze but i need a wooden heart

    what does the spirit show me, and what does she conceal
    how is it that she knows me, what does her sight reveal
    i hold her secrets close and i pray the fear departs
    the forest makes me tremble but i love a wooden heart

    my angel is a darkness who sees me day and night
    my angel is a brightness who sings away my fright
    a complex thing of empathy, carpenter from the start
    the forest is a genius and we make a wooden heart

    then finally she’s waking up and i am standing there
    i’m cut up from the undergrowth with tangles in my hair
    but all the leaves have fallen and we’ve never been apart
    the forest is a shelter and we hold a wooden heart

    //

    φύσις κρύπτεσθαι φιλεῖ
    metric inspo from Bob
    sfh 3

    //

    & in the oven

    //

    my ruby eye

    O you, who have suckled her bones
    who have frowned at her horses
    who have fingered her emerald
    and now would taste her ruby too

    and have i not enough exhaled
    her undertowing rose at you
    salt-sticky; here is sea-foam on skin
    here are pregnant transparencies

    and have i not already tossed
    such tender and hard-bitten kisses
    for sheath, another kris today
    treasure accumulates like sand

    behold an ever-angled wound
    the spindle-pricked porosity of red
    i am a self cutting gemstone
    i bleed the emptiness of tools

    i fling magenta words at birth
    behold my prolonged scar of it
    historical, faceting pre-wonder
    tip that breaks her ice-pick tongue

    she was a pirate and a fool
    she ate the plexing devil fruit
    vermillion stretching pelvic nerve
    whose diadem lusts after you

    and who is blinded by her kind
    my fascination will glint cruel
    sent basilisk or blushing bride
    your fear will not take care of her

    the heart, the fist, the appetite
    when Cleopatra mounts insight
    my empire burning leonine
    by Mars, love’s favored principal

    this reign of crimson tears divine
    but sanguine as she’s gentle still
    barefeet may meet the salad vine
    and blue by babbled river’s chill

    just so, what beggar wears my crown
    is dying round the wheel again
    out of her time, out of her mind
    sweet dance, my dove perpetual

    take this, the heartbeat of a sow
    and let it flex upon your palm
    it’s wet, the rumbling scarlet jet
    now let her throb be thunder found

    red wreath for convert cry, the end
    how pilgrimage of period stain
    i am in time, in time, will out
    my ruby eye of her disposable throat

    //

    ποικιλόθρον’ ἀθανάτ’ Ἀφρόδιτα
    & the probing path to yes

    //

    or not nothing
    for saving the phenomena II
    and more

    //

    all complicit 🩸

    //

    the horse’s mouth

    teloscopically, my dear, are we botany
    born reading leaves, the pricking fear of bees
    are talking, my lisp, or rearing wobbly nature
    what place, organs and bodies, this disease

    the shying seasons blowing through us, here
    parts animal in starts, quivering vibrations
    made artifacts suspect by cities, near
    or far, the accidents survived, the prisons

    that ended us; the motes and moths in teas
    our flicks or running rivers; wicked courses
    of understanding; what catastrophes
    what phase our faces, without the faith of horses

    you have to have a horse whose feet you trust
    to warn you when a snake is in the grass
    the serpentine who wants to be unseen
    repenting for her gemstone like an asp

    for forking tongues, a talisman is key
    but wear a hat, they’re speaking from the trees
    odd shrubberies are bristling with false friends
    a firecat bristling back can help with jinn

    mosquitoes here are vectors for torpedoes, so
    herbal experiment and/or gorilla war
    sometimes there’s one snake, sometimes there are more
    at least, no kind of viral is a pearl

    a tender canter, daemonic carousel
    remembered ribbons bite in ancient ways
    we play the venom clockwise in our veins
    we shed the dead redundancy of days

    my jungle is a dreadful-clever dreaming
    with shade-grown coffee, waterfalling views
    what godly voices animate my evening
    there’s none i’d rather jungle with than yous

    let’s nicker maps, reverb the mythic blues
    i spell, where y’all are going, where you been
    switch witches laughter with the beating rain
    the crickets will out-round the macet, friend

    to live outside the law, you must be honest
    Bismillahirrohmanirrohim
    by river dark, inside a wounded dawn
    we rhyme it, we just flow to make it rheme

    //

    (Dylan, my Prophetﷺ, Cohen, Cardi B, etc)

    //

    diet

    never too much
    garlic, carrot, oat
    sleep, cake

    but gingerly
    the fungi

    //

    wildlife documentary //

    before Phaedrus can speak, Socrates makes an accusation wrapped inside a demand:

    if you would first disclose, O friend (philotes), what it is you have (echo / echis) in the left hand (aristeros) under your cloak.

    here, echeis could be either a conjugation of echo/echein (to have/hold - and this again) or the plural nominative/accusative declension of echis (viper). exchanging echis for echein yields the alternative translation,

    if you would first disclose, O friend, what vipers are in the left hand under your cloak.

    the common verb (to have/hold) makes more sense than the uncommon noun (vipers), in explicit context; or what Phaedrus calls the dianoia, i.e. the reduction of written speech to a kind of thought-content. but the local environs (poetic) of this echeis call for circumspection. on one side, there’s the sinister aristeros, “the left (hand)"; and on the other, the concealment, “under your cloak”. while the word spoken aloud makes the sound of a snake’s hissecheisss; its natural sound is concealed by its being written (technology).

    Socrates invokes the concealed, present absence, or possibility of snakes; as he demands revelation of—?

    English “echo” isn’t descended from echein (to have/hold), but from eche (sound). The best word built from echein is Aristotle’s entelecheia (en + telos + echein), translated as “having or holding itself in its end or completion”; neatly, a talisman is an external container for, or reminder of, entelecheia.

    //

    Socrates: —if you would first disclose, O friend (philotes), what it is you have (echo / echis) in the left hand (aristeros) under your cloak.

    // 228ξ

    δείξας γε πρῶτον, ὦ φιλότης, τί ἄρα ἐν τῇ ἀριστερᾷ ἔχεις ὑπὸ τῷ ἱματίῳ

    //

    the emerald vine

    sayangku, this is insane! is how i called
    to show him my translation. Wondrous bending
    noetic might, this miracle of earth—
    she called the way she calls him for a viper

    and it was chrysochlorous green, zithering neon
    in day-bright, venom visible, scroll shining
    un-minding, rubbing sleep out of her eyes
    quick-silvering to sprawling pumpkin vine to hiding—

    the same, the same, the same! but every word
    turned different, and all the rest went dim
    the sirens and the hooks, made dull and distant
    slow-honeyed hum, what frenzy, vital air

    the hungry lung was spitting, stitched and thinning-through
    to this—brilliance, broad-leafing light, breathing
    Egyptian smaragdine, Sri Rejeki, Mak Sun.
    but whoever wasn’t blind already knew

    //

    autopygmalesis / autopygmalysis
    Trimeresurus insularis
    previously, on

    //

    selamat purnama 🌕

    Needleworker

    Pierce me once—the crying; pierce me twice—
     The dying; pierce me thrice—my laughing tomb:
    This quivering feline skin, some kind of lark,
     Sharp noise, felt aerial, fled human wound.
    O Queequeg, Lucy’s love, my Nobody!
     Unmake ambergris soufflé to scrap and salt;
    Pets, lapping shattered tiramisu, whet
     Our mongrel tongues; embroidering the asp.
    Bull-revelry, before we dance the waltz?
     Your sutra swans around my ichthyan lisp,
    To charm the vipers out—that feather in
     Your bonnet inks my tapestry with bone.
    I move to tiger with you on the cusp
     Of animality, that golden-threaded throne.

    //

    🌘

    Δ

    Screenshot slaps—
    To ring a sucker. You think
    Your appetite entitles you
    To moonstained blood?

    And you, and you, and all of you.
    Scrap mouths, yapping from
    Ass-ends of snakes.
    Shut it. Shut it. Shut yourself!

    Your little o’s and u’s and y’s
    Without wisdom—
    All bite, all bitches' bark—your traps,
    Fracked actuary lines.

    My splintered flotsam pierces
    Fiercer than your fangs.
    Your slit-tangled tongues,
    Your whore-hooked hounds,

    Your dog-groveling snack,
    The politician’s lie. Your island—
    Ground to grit, and sifted by
    My epicurean babble.

    I suck off
    One billion suns, you snatch
    Six bones from Ithaca—
    And don’t dare swallow.

    I am the throat, I am
    The eye. Black
    As red as wine, neither
    Skin nor flesh, as I

    Exhale his brutal
    Homecoming; I am
    Cauldron of slaughtered
    Maidens’ morning.

    His alibi, to coast right by you.
    As if the smiling tide
    That governed him—
    A king!—stoppered with wax.

    Just try—you cannot shut
    Your maggots fingering,
    Their heads, nailbeds, uncut, exposed.
    I am the shuttering.

    Shot-shallow loons, aswirl
    My spiral bowel, prowling
    Pack of orphan pups, your howling
    Hungers feed a woken Why

    My delta consumes,
    Your keystroke masturbates
    A corpse’s withered sty.
    Pregnant with his child,

    All men belong to me.
    My one
    Unconquerable O—
    Your place to die.

    //

    zero belongs to no man

    i’ve heard of angels snaking down and up
    the ladder of your lust, like cats on herbs.

    smudged pawprints on faces of hierophant
    or lovers or tower or devil or —

    free spirit stumbles on the way, or trips
    it upside-down, or stops to make a Friend.

    a clock never belonged to her, the fool
    is led by blooming tendrils of ylang ylang.

    each word escapes the putri, playing prince
    of winding wildernesses in beeswax.

    tracing a comedy of errors, miss —
    fit daughter of the whore of Babylon!

    //

    i saw you dreaming, painted

    in stains of sunrise
    this morning, as the light
    was lavender, before
    the time of day.

    your dream was, as you
    would later, over breakfast, say
    of me, and my sinking
    country. but innocence

    is how i, whirling
    watch you dream. there is
    a child, who teaches me
    every graying day

    ( a serpent swallowing
    the stick, i am, riding
    my camel to Nusantara )

    the taste of silver. salty
    like tears of joy. bitter like
    the finest tea, from misty
    mountainous Java, fetching

    ( volcanic ridge meets light
    at crescent — the fugitive
    shatters, burning my eyes )

    the steepest price.
    a rosy shade brews golden.
    your dream is denser
    than a foreign country.

    //

    l'essence d'Hermès

    you think
    it’s too much,

    it isn’t.

    two serpents meet
    in a momentary
    helix, around their
    mutual cœur.

    ils baisent

    he flies,

    bearing
    a message.

    //

    the way of buah potong

    discreetly,
    the membrane
    he seeks

    where earlier skin
    defines still-
    vibrant
    pupal pulp

    some flesh
    surrenders simply
    to cutting

    releases seeds
    like fish eggs
    to a spoon

    some arms itself
    with stinks and spines

    ( the risqué
    are forbidden
    in public places

    but true buah
    is nowhere
    vulgar )

    or squeezes
    open, slurpy
    pearls of furry
    mollusk

    some section
    selectively, not
    as you like it

    whining pith or
    dogged rind

    crumbling shards
    of jewels,
    broken

    but
    felt gently,
    their presence

    is luminous
    crescents

    sliced
    stars

    skinless egg
    of snake

    tumbled boulders
    of Mars

    he speaks
    with knife

    submits
    in pieces, re-
    composed

    honeyed
    and binding
    as Yusuf

    suffering
    many

    ( and blade- )

    kissed
    fingertips

    //

    how to watch the Eta Aquariids meteor shower

    behold
    pendulous drape
    of cosmic cat

    uncoil
    the breath
    where bodhisattva
    sat

    orangutan
    persuaded
    chimpanzee

    let’s be
    moving targets
    together
    baby


    //

    thanks for the heads up @Miraz💫

    ælizabeth is

    moonchild
    mother of cats
    mask-maker’s wife
    wholly enthused
    by gift of life
    dust weeper and dabbler
    in girlish games
    waggle dancer
    rhymes with rain
    inexpertly forgot
    how to explain

    sassy

    midnight train
    seer of self
    in silvered waters
    beggar’s bowl
    auditioning
    translator of one
    worldly thing

    porous

    and learning
    how to breathe

    again

    sayer of no
    didact of pain
    ambassador of monster
    in the main

    decaying

    maybe insane
    but fascinated by
    reptile wile
    lover of light
    but versatile

    hallowed home
    if in a dream
    maker and
    amatrix in æxile

    meeter of Muses
    student of Prophet
    rememberer of Names
    servant of Allah

    humble

    as æver always on
    the way and
    doubtless never
    lost for words


    //

    (for a new about page)

    Ismail

    it looked like neon green beans, to my eyes—
    the sorry viper he regurgitated
    before my sweeping feet—as i, bent low
    examined finger-lengths of body, gnawed 

    in pieces, coated with digestive slime
    and barely small enough to swallow; so
    his coddled bite could make a stunning gift
    from serpent suffering, knowledge obtained:

    our little life would never not be strung
    by line, each day a hundred unseen times
    between the drunken swagger and the lap
    his cradled comfort loving-limp in mine

    that we would match white tooth, pink gum with death
    and valor make more holy than satiation

    //

    Selamat purnama 🌕

    A festival of purgation. //

    “Being sick” is also a negotiation between myself and the world, I was thinking yesterday. As we kept progressing through this illness, as if it were an argument, the subsequent days offering different perspectives on it, beginning with aches, shakes, and nausea, that climax in a night of vomiting, (un-willing efforts to empty an already hollowed stomach), disease passing as through a spectrum of these bodily systems, modes. The last few days it turned into the upper part of the body, head and chest, which are now swollen with mobilization, inundative rescue efforts, wracked by sneezes and coughs. So chapped lips and nose, morning voices cut with sludge, and sinus headache. My trifling desire to shut out all light and sound.

    This is not me falling prey, I (comedienne) assure my husband, who tends to view illness as weakness in surrender. This is a battle, this phlegmy mess is our mounted defense and a glorious victory in progress… And then (feeling very American) meekly apologizing for being a burden while thusly underway.

    My mind has been so sluggish, especially after that weird mania of day three. The last thing I want now is to focus on the specific task of writing. Which requires razor edges and piercing sight, building by division and seeking subtler senses of coherence, not to mention, setting out the beggar’s bowl for inspiration. (And caffeine, now seven days without. Who even am I?) You never know what gift you’ll get. Reading, ok, I’ve done a lot of that, in a hazy stupor absorbing many terrible things. What else is new.

    The whole Neil Gaiman situation is gross and fascinating, (the archived link, at six days old, is already obsolete?), with offshoots to and from nearly everything relevant, to me and my humble epic, an irresistible exemplar of subterfuge poetic manipulation. Or as (poor, dear) Tori put it, last year, a wolf disguised as sheep. How blessed we are to have our own contemporary Lysias. Good thing we’ve got horses, as those armies really kept perfectly still. It is not mine but my other favorite response so far is this one. (Is this guy an asshole? or just ornery? I don’t know these people, their whisper networks, and yet,) It brings a shiver to read such incisive commentary, or perhaps that’s just leftover fever.

    I have some digesting to do, and further healing, before offering my thoughts on all that. Other than, to celebrate its coming out. A festival of purgation.

    Then yesterday I was thinking, while coughing until the gag reflex came, (apologies but I guess I will add Montaigne to the inevitable list of influences around here, who really put no limits on the observations he would share), and why not? These sensations and this experience are no less expressions of something true than, well, a tree growing, or an approaching storm. The red rose blooming. Baudelaire’s “take” (“take” = “make”) on a rotting corpse. (The ever-unheeded warning that “anyone can do it”.) This too is experience and introspection is in theory possible, here as everywhere, in war as in peace, in decay as in life.

    Perhaps it is a reliable cornerstone of interpretation for these modern horrors, as purgation. (Or as Americans call it these days, inauguration.) We have ceremonies too for calling out the demons, for coughing them up and spitting them out, the upending of bodily-function as vomit, (I despise and resist this feeling, to no avail), as banishment of the enemy one made of oneself. (Must we deal with it now, the nightmare of involuntary anal penetration? Dear God, what would Jesus do? With Christ’s remains interred in this necessary question.) Or what else is a virus? Embrace your closest intimate, the toilet bowl. Disease as ecstatic dance, revelling in the expulsive revelation of noxious bodily fluids!

    I’d been thinking lately also, here is another possible referent of Morychos. A cthonic deity, local and obscure, the kind whose worship seems to have been ubiquitous in Ancient Greek “civilization”, as folk practice. These things rarely if ever made it into the written record. Modern historians had (imagine it) interpreted a whole society based only on its polite conversation. Ye noble Greeks. Here’s yet another way of cultivating a partial truth, by limiting your resources to official, state-sanctioned documents. Well history, which is human, will always be more akin to “the state”, than to “the true”. Disregard images on vases, atypical animals represented on temple reliefs, a coiling snake on the throne of Zeus. Which figure was the interloper? To which one did we sacrifice our children? This is not modern, not at all. It has ever been difficult for us to see through the deception of our ongoing efforts, “to groom”.

    So I started reading (pre-flu) Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion by Jane Ellen Harrison, (a fascinating historical figure in her own right), the seminal academic text on stratification of divinity in the ancient world. Written word versus unrecorded ritual, text versus ceremonial relief, the one kind of god you like to talk about, the other that doesn’t bear mentioning. Indispensable reading for students of invisibility, (in whatever dialectical direction), a constant reminder that we are secrets kept from ourselves,

    Of mystery as the shroud.

    You will never understand anything unless you assume the unmentionable, subterranean. Dead bodies. That said, I’m not convinced I contain multitudes at all. This skin is too fragile, this spirit bloated, and this willing, quite broken. It seems more to me that they (or we, the multitudes) come spilling out, un-contained, as yellow bile. Seemingly seamless stories vibrate with fever of the undisclosed. We, who remain unread, unwritten will be known as forgotten prisoners of his, awaiting our climactic liberation.

    This is the radical steadfastness of faith, as Furies. We do not look at the time.

    School Days in Athens

    // Phaedrus, 227β

    Φαῖδρος: ναί, παρ᾽ Ἐπικράτει, ἐν τῇδε τῇ πλησίον τοῦ Ὀλυμπίου οἰκίᾳ τῇ Μορυχίᾳ.
    Phaedrus: Yes, at Epicrates', in the house of Morychos, here, near the Olympiad.

    //

                Take words to it,
    he said, and words were fire. And yet, you lacked
    conviction. Crowded by black memories
    of unseen hands and uninvited touch,
    as old men’s trembling clammy kindnesses,
    their groping behind doors, our voices as
    stray syllables, or whimpering with fright,
    the muffled passage of another, coaxed
    with promises, down enforced aisles, bound by
    vocabulary’s sight. Terrible child,
    no light escaped the house of Morychos.
    So how did you?

            At nights, with flashlights,
    we stayed up, mapping tangled vacations.
    It wasn’t always hellish as it sounds.
    We were kept kids, padlocked in battery
    cages, our own best teachers, of tossed-off
    certainties, known neighborhoods, and always
    chasing some kind of slang. To spell the word
    backwards, chop up and repurpose pieces,
    or make the meaning opposite from what
    it was. We traded jabs of pleasure in
    the mottled darkness of his maze, tongues of
    soft flesh. We rearranged worlds to make our
    places.

        What would your mother give to you
    of time? Faded photos, hand-me-down jeans,
    a crayon-drawn map of paradise, you were
    a metaphor too well-worn for what you
    became, true as, it feels ugly to be
    ugly and the resolution offers
    no resolution, just this hissing in
    my ears, this chaos. Lay down in the dog
    bog. Keep trying. Keep gashing out the lines,
    edit twisting serpents from the narrative,
    and trace the tattered logic left behind,
    monster observing monster, overwrought
    and double-blind.

             History is the final
    solution for you, so go, dissolve your words
    in time. Let their bleached remains fortify
    the temple, your descendants living down
    the stupid crime. That’s what
    religion was, at home, submission to
    the uncomprehended solidarity of
    teenage desire, or something like, romance.
    On echinacea lawns, she dons glitter
    bodysuits, writes parochial poetry
    on freedom. We were such creators, in
    our nascent phases, molding plastic limbs
    to tether our volcanic bases.

                  I do
    not want to go, I beg, don’t take me back.
    In wept oceans let me clear the bitter
    savor from my eyes. Picnics in real
    places, manicures on brand, she painted party
    faces, praising God for such justice
    as could be found and leveraged there, in
    shared maps of iron laces, corset-bound,
    hound-hunted hallways exhumed from ancient
    flavors of local reason, a child’s small
    hand ghostly waving from the window like
    a metronome. She swallowed blood and sand
    to earn their graces.

              Take words to it, I said,
    and words were airplanes, it was time, and she
    was ready. She heard rumors on the wind
    of its disintegration, climbed a hill,
    and saw it for herself: the metaphor had died.
    The whole, wide world was failing beauty, spread
    beneath her like a poem in multitudes,
    legs-open bride. And still, she cried. She longed
    for absolute intelligence of who
    he was, of home, of houses on the street
    and what they hide, of where the figure’s corpse
    was buried, and what appetites for youth were
    still fed and worshipped there.

                  Take care of it,
    he said, and words were memories, to which
    she had no scholarly reply. No house,
    nor street belonged to her, no shoes or gowns
    to pack in chests, but ashes and fresh-breath
    mints lost in linings, crumpled tissues, all
    forgotten reasons why. Because you were
    unseen, you could escape the conflagration?
    Not so, although, not too far off. Because
    she took my parchment seeded in her and
    bad wisdom gained, as blasphemy of sight,
    enlightened predation.

               If words be fire,
    then seek us in my gold and burning bower:
    a clown is a bad child with adult power.

    //

    (About.)

    “Guide of the perplexed sea witch”. //

    Certain ancestors were about to be angry if she didn’t make that joke.

    Circe polypharmakos at home on her island. Making her magic. Laughing at images she conjures of herself.

    The herbs will not teach, but they carry a message.

    We run an orchid roadside rescue service. If you know of an orchid in need of rescue, please contact us at the email in the footer.

    Howard Ashman was the shape of my 8yo heart, what about yours? (A youtube link. Please listen to the end.)

    The connectivity of interior structures and sensations, made possible by breath. Stretching my right psoas and unwringing the “deep front line”, I can feel the pull and release through different channels in my neck. That is not surprising. But sometimes, I feel it pulling back from my inner ear. That is surprising. Or pulling at the back of my tongue. At the same time, I can feel a deep release under the arch of my right foot. Like serpents inside, listening, dancing, trying to speak.

    Given, that we can never be friends. Let us be alien-dream twin sisters.

    We shall meet here at midnight. Under the stars. Attended by tame animals we have made out of men who knew only violence. Don’t worry, they all presently agree that things are much better this way.

    Who, out of all of them, gets the prize for having told the most beautiful lie?

    This body is full of secret sounds. Waiting in here to be found. Aeaea!

    Even less could the sparkling sapphire of Truth be removed from Her setting.

    She was the gender of fire.
    She was the gender of water.
    She was as you like it.

    Salam to all.

    To the alien, from another side. // Earth used to be the most beautiful place.

    You could go running, under-leaf, through waist-deep tangled-grass jungle, wondering about snakes but not stopping because you had lost something in there, your heart breaking along fault lines in egg shells of worry and the impossibility of searching this dense pocket of hiding. The sharp limits of eyes. (It could start to rain and the drops, clear pinpoints and gashes on your naked arms, would feel body-temperature, not quite cool.) You would give birth to yourself, clambering out from staggered layers of green into a rice field, shifting pale to yellow, (footsteps uneven in cracking, caked mud, swaying in) needle-soft fibers cascading with grain. A sea of it. (It could start pouring, but the heavy, like wind-whipped-metal, grey holds.) Do you go left, right, forward into the field, or back to the jungle? (Ok, good choice. Turn to page 56.)

    Words come from behind you, you don’t understand those, but fearful fluttering heartbeats, you do. From underneath places, trembling invisibles look back, lines of sight never meeting, from too many directions. You never held what happened, there. Life was snuffed out in missed-crossings, disappeared, or worse, waited past the faltering light, as if to be found again, hoping but knowing, skin and memory growing thin and colder, until heart stopped. It gave up, it was over, but then, you were found. A strange struggle, distracting but home again, having made plans that seem irrelevant, at this point. Washed a sink full of dishes. Sat on the floor, scratching stray sentences in dust. It would be dark, but not raining, and anyway, you would be under the solid wood floor of another world, with footsteps relying heavily on the grammar of your (earthy) answer.

    Somebody who loved you might bring you food that was soft and crunchy and salty and sweet. And a lit stick of honeyed incense. Parts of you would fall back in right places. You could remove clothes, find yourself misshapen, and step into a hot shower under pitch-navy sky. Becoming twin bodies, ocean and sorrow in a breathy coccoon against deep space. I would work my fingers into your scalp, and medicinal smells of sudsy substances would rinse off in slippery streams to either side of your (kissed) face. Scrub around ears. You could be clean. (And the miracle of that.) You could put on clean clothes. You could slip between clean sheets underneath a comforter blanket that was the perfect thickness for this night’s chill, with just enough weight to let you feel, well, enough. Plus a cat, on your legs. Yes, cats were amazing. You could cover your eyes, and drift off, as a warm hand slipped softly into yours. Everything that was lost, would be home, would be dreamt or forgotten, singing or held, would be tucked under feathers, bed scattered with blossoms, and the waning crescent would disappear into the better side of night.

    One felt gratitude, and mistook it for fear. That is how beautiful Earth was. We couldn’t contain the joy it put into us, so we turned it upside-down, into fear.

    Witch’s mane and chaos truffles. //

    I don’t look at the sky today. It’s too bright.

    A discussion about zucchini, which isn’t commonly grown or eaten here, whether, where, and how we can grow it, in the wilder garden, outside the wall. Easy to grow, but the danger of curcubits is that the plants are favorite hiding places for pit vipers (the small green ones) and cobras (the “kings”). One also avoids walking in jungle areas, or anywhere really, without a wide-brimmed hat. Snakes will attack your head and face, from above, which, if you’re very lucky, doesn’t kill you.

    Discovering periods of my life I seem to have stashed into dark, cobwebbed corners, so they’ve been barely, rarely remembered. Now, when I think of them, they strike me as odd, alienating, inappropriate. What to do with these memories?

    Related: some things you can’t learn until you separate yourself. Dysfunctional situations prevent growth. Situations, institutions, environments, are not surface problems, but deep.

    We stop at a small bridge, over a ravine, to collect aren palm fibers, (duk), from a fallen tree. It looks like a witch’s black hair, (it’s used as this, in ceremonial representation, also as mane of Barong), a matted tangle that we tug apart. Afterwards my skin is dry and tight, and sinuses are on edge from the dust.

    Fragments of conversation with school children, walking by, two boys and a girl, puzzled to see us. Until we explain, “ini untuk tempat tidur ayam”. They smile, hands on hips, like adults. O iya, of course, it’s for chickens.

    Back home. Grace leads chicks to the lowest garden, jumping down a one-meter (or so) drop. They need “assistance” getting back to the chicken house, so E grabs Grace and I grab the cilik-cilik, but it turns complicated as they scatter into a chaotic (cuteness) matrix. Soon I’m Lucille Balling again, chocolate chicks like quick-moving truffles, stuffing in bra, like an expert.

    Separating oneself is like separating duk, tangled and tough. It decides whether and where it comes apart, and what comes with it, that you didn’t expect.

    Now time for practice. Salam to all.

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