The Inconsolable Humbleness Of The Kitchen Table

I can’t keep up with this world here comes God silent as a river emotional storms on the flat smooth pages of a book stepladder massaged by language Jack Kerouac typing Buddhist scripture on a Royal typewriter in Orlando, Florida. Words shine in a reverie of oil poem like a flashlight beam a memory crawling around in my brain seeking description and ramification one plus cotton equals orifice drummer’s arms in hectic rhythmic jazz time walks by dressed in a universe I like to think about the sun how all those thousands and millions and billions of explosions culminate in a ball of bright furious gold. I wear the cold syntax of a lunar wilderness and an evangelical hollyhock hat this ain’t no predatory loan says a man with a knife blade nose just think of the collective emotion that comes with something like a wedding or a music concert sandals in the sand vandals in a band four mouths forming a stratagem and a melody that will make people hot with sweat and motivation sometimes you can look at a face and see California written all over it as conditions on earth prove more trying people look longingly at space travel shape forages on borders outlines contours what you need is an inflatable puzzle I like dressing in ashes and rakes we all want to be closer to the stars. The hills of Vermont are married to the ore of an ancestral Great Spirit willows wallowing in a willowy willy-nilly go ahead take a bath in a lonesome tub of nonchalance lean back and dream the dream of the body carpenter ants dancing around a rock we’re all outpatients on spaceship earth. Capitalism is flawed by design ownership leads to neurosis what am I doing here I feel granulated and mineral I’ve got a good reason for taking the easy way out come on now put your smartphones down for one fucking minute and listen to your inner being what is lacking is a nomadology a tendency toward deterritorialization a way to open a creative line of flight that doesn’t involve cigars crushed dreams diamonds and pearls the sullen look of bored cashiers. Sometimes the exit turns out to be a flamingo a nautilus propelling itself with jets of water chicken’s feathers ruffling in the wind reality is interaction a feeling of life inside a perception it’s a shame we can’t eat the sunlight like trees slurp that luminous golden soup with a little chlorophyll and a pecan pie horses cresting at the butte there are stewards of the normal that must be placated opened by gentle persuasion there are powers of which we have only an obscure understanding but that burst out when we write something heartfelt and meaningful discovering meaning everywhere expanding in all directions the inconsolable humblenesss of the kitchen table endorsing the flux of consciousness a vessel for serving confidence with the sail of a paragraph a kingfisher off the starboard bow.