Monday, September 2, 2002

Moving On (freewrite)


Moving on by the light of the silvery moon. I don't even like musicals and I'm singing: tonight won't be like any other night. I'm feeling giddy, because everything reminds me of song. Laureen's poison oak has me singing about potions of calamine lotion. Po SHUNS of calaMINE loSHUN!

Say lotion, say it again, that is an l lying offshore with the ocean, it's a lazy river, malaise and mood. Moving on by the light.... Shortest poem in English is Lighgt! Aram Saroyan kept elongating that word on the typewriter. It must've been an electric typewriter with repeating keys that clicked until infinity got weary and said, oh okay you can have your Lighght anyway you want to spell it. Either that, or it was a carriage return. Ding!

All those silent gh'es to ease the way for light or become a breath of inspiration. Inspire as to breathe into, as in Godhead. The ticking of the hourglass sand, the syrup curling, a fan spinning in an empty room. 

The rhythmic hypnotist of hot summer, the way the sun sets, something by the fire crackling, and a lost kitten, or searching for tribes. Sometimes we resist moving on. All right we always resist, stubborn cahoots that we are, but life has a way of moving on around us, with or without us. Tricking us into action, closing off all retreats, so that the only way out is through. Or in. Or out. On out, said Lew Welch.

I used to think of life as a series of plateaus, tableland mesas like in the Southwest. (Yes, I know that's redundant.) When you've outgrown one level, you have to build up your stamina in order to climb up to the next level. 

Now I see the mesas as floating islands, sometimes the cliff dissolves faster than we can move, and we are frantically moving on to the next place, because to stand still, is to sink into the abyss. 

My eyes are all out of breath, and I'm on a weird race ever onward to the next plateau, the dust of the last one curling up behind us, reminding us that the standing still is an illusion, everything is an illusion. Everything.

9/2/2002

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