Saturday, July 23, 2022

Testify!

 





Testify!


We are in a thick metaphysical cloud in which, I pray, a holy mountain is concealed.


The people are complaining— 


where are we going?


what will we eat?


inflation is eating up all our money.


Gasoline is more expensive than gold.


The people are tired of this wilderness.


We tell a story about history or evolution as the human pilgrimage to universal liberation and utopian ecstasy.


We come to you now bringing the accumulated wisdom of Europe, what we can remember of it, and various implements of our powerful technology, and we thought we could make some trades. 


I’ll take Manhattan, the Bronx, and Staten Island, too. You take these trinkets.


Of all the tribes of Earth we have been blessed with wisdom, weapons, and treasures,


Weapons and treasures of heathen nations we have looted in the name of Christ. Weapons and treasures and slaves.


Our ancestors' ghosts gather around us.


Gusts of our ancestors catch us and spin us.


This past Saturday I didn't remember it was the anniversary of my father's death. I didn't think of it until three days later. I had become physically ill in a way that reminded me of him a year before his death — maybe psyche inflicting punishment on soma again.


I have a televisit with my doctor tomorrow. Maybe that will clear things up.


Even though they are manufactured by your brain, don’t speak lightly of ghosts or gods.


Testify!


There is a secret connection between the word “gust” and the word “ghost” — a sudden ghost of wind broke the mirror and slammed the door shut — your ghost seized me in a gust of grief and tore me down like a broken oak.


Gathered to our ancestors, every atom returned to the body of mother universe from which we come and go every moment.


Testify!


Inter my dust next to hers on the hill overlooking the lake.


Our souls evaporate and are scattered by the winds on a mist of water and particulate matter, and among other spirits breathed by winds over seas and continents, forever children of the Earth.


I sit by the window staring at the sky. trying to draw on extraterrestrial energies.


Don’t those energies come to us anyway?


— out of timelessness from which unending time is generated?


Power from the beyond  or within — but more than that — instructions or even a map — something by which to navigate?


The sky watcher sits by the window and sees something odd in the sky, bulbous and floating, an inflated sign in heaven.


A blimp is slowly coming around the tip of Manhattan, following the East River until it’s close enough for me to  see the words SHARK WEEK on the side.


It could be promoting the televised January 6 hearing.


The Secret Service deleted text messages sent on January 6.

The Secret Service deleted texts sent by agents on January 6

The Secret Service deleted texts sent by agents on January 6


Repeat until you vomit.


Christofascism rolls over the land like a tank battalion and I will stand in its path.


Testify!


Capitalism burns the atmosphere to make a quick profit but my high velocity air circulator keeps me cool.


With or without human made climate change, the sun will burn up the planet. Eventually, the whole universe will come to an end — only it already has — don’t you know that yet?


The birth and death of the universe is eternally conceived in the eternal ecstatic Now while you are distracted by passing blimps.


The universe is my universe, I once wrote. Love it or leave it. And don’t cry over a spilled Milky Way. The cosmic amniotic soup is swarming with galaxies.


Find the time later — not now — to pay attention to the moment that holds you.

What do you hear now beyond the tinnitus? 

I hear the traffic on the bridge and the electric fan. 


I’m more or less secure, at the moment, in my tent on the side of the holy mountain in the holy land of Lenapehoking.


On a dog day morning in Brooklyn I walk to the river and watch the sunrise reflected on the glass buildings of the city.


A window opens in the sky and

we see it is full of multiverses, 

and we can’t hear them — but we can see with our own eyes — that the whole heavenly host is screaming at us.



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