thats the way it looks when I go to heaven

thats the way it looks when I go to heaven

they say its like softness there

they say its like land

they say its like day

they say its like dew

on the principal ones table

a book appeared

an open book

that went on growing

until it was the size

of a person

in its pages there were letters

it was a white book

so white it was resplendent

one of the principal ones

spoke to me and said

maria sabina

this is the book of  wisdom

it is the book of language

everything that is written

in it is for you

the book is yours

take it so you can work

i explained with emotion

that is for me

i receive it

silver lipstick

in london town

bass ambiguities

boats creaking

horns mourning

in a muffled fog

cruising smooth

The St. John's River is one of the most picturesque and beautiful streams in the world. Its bluffs

never rise higher than fifty or sixty feet; it has no abrupt precipices; the whole formation about it is tertiary

and drift or modern terrace; but its first eighty miles from its mouth are broad as a bay of the sea,

and its narrow upper course above Pilatka, where current supersedes tide, is all one dream of Eden,

- an infinitely tortuous avenue, peopled with myriads of beautiful wild-birds,

roofed by over-hanging branches of oak, magnolia, and cypress,

draped with the moss that tones down those solitudes into a sort of day-moonlight,

and, in the greatest contrast with this, festooned by the lavish clusters of odorous yellow jasmine and many-hued morning-glory,

- the latter making a pillar heavy with triumphal wreaths of every old stump along the plashy brink,

- the former swinging from tree-top to tree-top to knit the whole tropic wilderness into a tangle of emerald chains,

drooping lamps of golden fire, and censers of bewildering fragrance.

fitz hugh

yes!!!!

in the old days almost everyone

was psychotic

the most punishing

were the anal neurotics

who crushed difference

the good news is the tubes will last

beyond our memory

facing the final noon

without knowing

for feeling

for the monkey

that place

where you

could speak to animals

because all was certainty

in what you knew

you ran through the checklist

of known emotion displays

and figured out where

everyone was going

not so easy now

   














sending signal through the air

                               is it intelligent

(a)scent of sauvage

Collective organization is still so essential today that many consider it, with some justification, to be the final goal; whereas to call for further steps along the road to autonomy appears like arrogance or hubris, fantasticality, or simply folly.

Nevertheless it may be that for sufficient reasons a man feels he must set out on his own feet along the road to wider realms.  It may that in all the garbs, shapes, forms, modes, and manners of life offered to him he does not find what is peculiarly necessary for him.

He will go alone and be his own company.  He will serve as his own group, consisting of a variety of opinions and tendencies--which need not be necessarily be marching in the same direction.  In fact he will be at odds with himself, and will find great difficulty in uniting his own multiplicity for purposes of common action.  Even if he is outwardly protected by the social forms of the intermediary stage, he will have nodefense against his own multiplicity.

The disunion within himself may cause him to give up, to lapse into identity with his surroundings.

Blind acceptance never leads to a solution; at best it leads only to a standstill and is paid for heavily in the next generation.

I am under the influence of things or questions which were left incomplete and unanswered by my parents.

                                          carl gustav