The Fool's
Journey
by Ned Hogan, Jr.
for
from whence it came . perhaps a tiny and circular Toa, placed just
so, between those kind words. those hope charged words, those self-ignighting
promises that we knew it did not matter if we keep. Our forgiveness
grew huge enough to not blame even our own selves. and thus It was
a dream into which this fertile crowd descended gently. A real deep
and blue inverse hyku, and
this one did not escape because it was not a single and isolated dream
that occured that night, no. Of the seven complete origin of thought
living sleeping family beings(even if they did not know, or admit,or,
were just too embarressed...)It was a mingling and a touching and
a knowledge that rested on its own futility and nourished itself on
this hopeless task of knowing, for sure, anything, at that time, for
those three times two divided by pi and placed in the ultimate function
of alpha , or omega , or, x-ray. Truth was so flexible. And everyone
tried so hard to hold the very 'woman' of it still enough to understand,
to somehow be prepared. But everything just flowed on, yes, round
about. And the only defense, as usual, was laughter. Farmed, grown
organically, straight out of nowhere and placed on a flying table
of love! A surprise salad with olives. Nice big, fat, pitted, black
olives. Throughout the breathing night something else gave it a place
to be, this dream, this cacophony becomeing that something else which
will heal us and guide us and perfectly forgive our ignorance. For
it is the only and perfect place for the higher logic to occur. For
the unconditional love to show the way, as long as we live the inverse
hyku and are selfless. Well, this was the song they tried to sing.
And their residual intent from the day now lay in things they would
try to remember to say the comming day. Humming perhaps a ridge mile
for no reason and thinking about nothing, perfectly. Or, nothing perfectly.
Wanting to taste the words that would carry it and being so fufilled
as to lack the will to try to tanscribe it. No, it would have to be
caught like the wind. In the sheets. The naked hands flexed tinyily
all around trying to crawl into eachothers touch. For a moment it
was silent. Then an acorn fell. Landing perfectly on the dog! It was
suddenly like a living joke! Trying to fly at supersonic speed over
the seemingly, now, acres and acres of sleeping peoples without touching
even the air. Desperation drove this nothing, now, perfectly. And,
blessings in disguises watched from all around completely through
their eyelids. Enjoying ever moment of the moment. Where, or upon
whom, did the beasty descend unwillingly?(the vacum struck him while
he was still leaning over the carcass that splashed across his key
board as if it were shot straight down from a huge cannon located
on the ceiling.. it sucked every thought from his brain like content
was relative to everything, at once. he struggled to locate the bird
in the cate but the backlight and the confusion of perches made it
almost painful to look at. And the literal(howbeautiful!)unbalance
this created was like an ear infected with a thirst for the final
note. Yes, a pefect circle that creates life! Because there is no
end. And the super critter managed to traverse this populus sea by
just barely touching down in the many inbetweens. A forest in the
sea.
