120816 02:48 room
Since early childhood and I remember that time too too well. I'd have a room where I'd go to escape chaos. As I remembered before putting fingers to keyboard I saw a single occupancy barren unfurnished room in the Bowery . . . reminiscent of a short story dream -- in toto -- wherein I wrestled opponent after another opponent who always turned out to be one facet of me endless.
Yet the room of childhood and now is not barren but furnished with something else indefinable not love so much but sanctuary from which I can now easily escape but not then in my child's memory & it is for why i am alone with Annie who understands my "not NOW!"
In converse with M I told her of recent out of body experiences -- I refuse to watch television -- preferring the silence of time crawling across the wall night or day or one becoming the other slowly upon which I see things memorable then remembering the first time in St. Paul's Wickford Rhode Island when utterly changed I entered with high expectation those of the newly converted or born again and remember now the 'little old ladies' that paid for the lights, the open door and toilet paper who did not change while I had utterly. And I love them still for keeping open the next portal of change fondly remembered and weeping now for it no longer belongs to my then new eyes.
I'd been painting the assistant rector's banister pausing to eat lunch reading in the Old Testament of a father who'd witness the death of many sons all together Randy by then was gone or so I think time no longer of consequence then from beginning to end birth to n0w near death factually.
It was then that a light exploded inside smithereens my mind made against not the walls of my skull but reaching beyond the beyond and still expanding more so while awaiting the verdict of my current maladies. Still counting since there is no end to my ending now or when I am no longer anything but dust blowing across the desert a different kind of bird than the pterodactyl who flew these skies with me invariable a falcon upon whose head He/She places a hood for sleep now and then now.
2M 2U 4me i remember the finely braided steel net holding me to the nest silently weeping for flight a universe above unavailable.
This time tethered to the wall the bed and transfusion stand gallons of antibiotics passing through me to save what this withered wattled wrinkled old fart of a man longing to go home to God I now remember the not transcendental transformability self but the feeling of being extruded spun from brass wire finer to better sound the clarion call of Gabriel like Maynard Ferguson who knew then he was a disciple of George I. Gurdjieff? when I asked him to blow Yesterdays why do i cry now for all he lead me to know through his horn?
well maybe i was trained to be something else? a poet? a writer? a photographer? I still don't know the who i am or wannabe when i grow up no longer constrained by steel nets burned asunder by what?
LOVE!
Boys & Girls right here in River City I gotta tell you you don't use the millionth part of you mind. Buried beneath what I am ashamed has become of church and state; governance what i once was
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved
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