Copyright © 2009 Ernest Bloom.
the skies are trembling and the rain
commences to fall. were the children
of monkeys really born to sail high seas
where wind fills white canvass and
nylon lines snap taut and bend? john brown
came roaring out of kansas with his
conscience inflamed and set the fuse
a-burning, while sailors cast from the
tossing deck went down to their salty graves
beyond the reach of mere national sweep.
and even abraham with his knife high raised
and fire in his brain and eyes ablaze
was once just another little boy sailing
stick boats down muddy channels on the
venetian strand for fun, where gray-headed
sea-witches still sell italian ices and roasted
wieners under a skin-baking, aquamarine sun.
Hahah, a little jest with the anti-Darwinian folk that I rather admire. One looks at this text and wonders what elements and stylistics cooperate here to forge such a wholesome and flowing unity that poses no hurdle to the surface agglomerations of your reading faculties and sort of slips, like an oyster or a well-cooled shot of vodka, down your cerberal throat and straight into the welcoming and hubhub excited hands of the deeper conscious, the soul, call it whatever you like, that jumps up and down and up and down in childish (but how ancient!) excitement. Much like Mother Nature, you are both extremely miserly with words and infinitely generous at the same time. You never give or take more than is required but when you do, you leave the partaker and observer assured, in a most astounding pattern of repepeated success, that the little material you deign to faciliate is just enough and, properly combined, forms the most wondrous and stunning cosmos of magical things, alive and seemingly dead, big and stupendous, breathing or moving in a cycle and rhythm of an inifnitely interweaved and unbroken unity that serves the survival and reproduction of every single element on the grand scale of the metaverse.
ReplyDeleteyeah right
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