jokerman93
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Sat Jul-01-06 09:40 AM
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Edited on Sat Jul-01-06 09:50 AM by jokerman93
Idyllwild
You know about this garden. It grows everywhere around us. Whatever we name here emerges lush and real from the night- black loam.
In places empty and fertile as this there’s no inside or out. No male or female. No First. No Final. Not a thing is left uncreated here. No pathway is impossible.
Turn and walk in any direction out of that naked longing of yours- the one we’re all born with. You’ll come eventually to the gold-lit idyll of wild flowers and skulls where the one you loved since the beginning comes to meet you.
Should any man tend a garden empty and fertile as this, he would perfect his care in time and disappear inside that tending, where the loved one waits for him.
Should another man spring averse and balance on his head -in such a garden as this- he perfects that awful trick. Head upon the world. Feet upon the stars. He comes to his beloved and vanishes in that longing just the same.
Where is the angel? Where is the snake? Whose long-decaying carcass are those jackals feasting on?
~J
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