"i tend to judge people by how much effort they put into their own life.
Because that's really what im going to be sharing with them. Is their life.
With mine.
if they barely care about their own existence.
then the connotation is that i have to put that effort in to care for them.
that careful and precise art of embodying the human body in primary reality.
in order to channel time correctly.
the careful and precise alignment of the fulcrum of choice.
But.
its corruption.
or an intentional distortion of this process.
is such incalculable damage. why.
i can see no explanation beyond spite.
otherwise:
sadness rising to anger. judgment rising to scorn.
these emotions can be refined with reason to an understanding in face to face confrontation.
But spite does not create.
but the machine of spite. nothing else.
but that venom.
criminal.
So.
to care for another.
that is grace, and to generate the ways of the circle of grace. it is so fragile.
that humility is the only thing that makes this palatable.
if it is real.
the extremely fine art to take the heart of vulnerability from a wall.
to a door.
With a lock..
to reach this state is to freely share the fruits of time. knowledge.
labour.
passion.
therein is the High delight of the connoisseur.
who.
after sharing an exchange of words with another. experiences a multiple enrichment and expansion of his time.
And the story of it in itself told ripples beyond in the circles abounding.
that is the intent of comedy.
the effort to maintain all of it.
to ensure it continues on and renews.
And is here.
is the meaning of comedy. "

The gnawing in my mind
Like a hammer striking a bell:
Riding in an iron Balloon
Buoyed in a noxious plume
Dark tunic slowly yellowed in the flame of acrid gas
Round goggles of the iron mask corroding
Flakes of steel falling away
Floating above a skinny caustic river
Encircling winding channels
Banks of concrete bleached by the sun
Endlessly eaten
By the current's maw
Hard white lights sheen on the surface
Where bridges collapsed
The rhythm of my breath
The wisp of a noxious zephyr
And the steady flow of the stream below
Are the only sounds

Out of green purple twilight
A zeppelin comes from the east
Propellers humming
Flying behemoth with an
Arcade of steel and glass
Draws near
Delivers my poison, and,
My quaking mind vindicated lastly like a dream:  
Pass the lips 'ere the river of song into the chorus of the
Wide golden shining sea
Brilliant coral cascading in blooming rainbow jungles
Dance of Life teeming
Beneath the surf

Ancient dreames fly in the face of the fire,
The Aer of the flame carven crystal Grove:
Tireless unstoppable force; repoire borne said
Again anew drifting morphing--

Snowflakes dart express in the sylvan dark,
Pushed madly by yawning Boreal wind,
Streaking in countless trains, innumerable
Gleaming vessels in the Steel Lamplight,
Pouring through the vista syncopated by
Silhouetted pines.

Clouds roll on by the by,
How they tease the sinews of mine eye!

Every dance from every heart is a flower blooming in Heaven.

i. Sometimes the sky is purple where the firelight of the Sun meets the vapour of the Earth, and the vast mountains are overlain with crystals of ice and snow, scintillating among the peaks presiding above, and here IS the habitation of dragons, who soar in procession and ride o'er the rolling pure white, whose claws razor & move & rivet the Earth, and her bounty, for formations to roost, whose faces and bodies scale with white crystals, hanging bright and so clear, opened, void of concealment, and their eyes are orbs of lightning, looks of arcing illumination that hang in the sky like branches of a tall tree, and speak words like polished stones that ripple upon a balmy pool, like the flowing sounds of Vespers that Holy Angels play to you Endlessly in ur dreams, in the rhythm of golden oceans, and the melodies of rainbow harps, forever whispering to you during the passage of night and day.

ii. The blind snake gropes along the ground, bleary eyed, conceiving the body as a *** totem, seeking ultimately only to consume his own tail.

Prairie winds howling from the south, the entire southern plane a gaping maw issuing forth wide frozen tides in the air scorching the land. peering thru the open blotches of the windshield on the way home, headlights revealing the rolling billows of misty scintillating snow devouring the gravel road way, old raised green truck roars thru the drifts. Earlier, twilight. Freezing. Everything the wind touches, everything that blocks its path becomes still and solid and severely dense. Had a bubble bath before i went out. AB =Long Johns 7 mo's. outta the year. Cheeks barely exposed to the elements, cells begin to deteriorate instantly, the strong stolid ache appears seconds afterward, and spreads in my blood quickly, and doesn't stop till some minutes after i seek refuge in the truck. Taking an elk. old bull. my step dad bumbles the first shot and the beast runs down the *****. He shoots it again. Cuts the throat and eventually takes off the head. Draining Blood is steaming. Leave the entrails in the snowscaped pasture land. Chain the legs to the bale mover on the back of the truck and make for the shop a few miles away. There Fire rages in an old steel drum in the corner, burning wood blocks and black petroleum wax leftover from the pigs that blast out from the pipelines. Feeney's in my coffee mug. The heat radiates just enough to reach us in middle room but we still wear full coveralls against to stifle the endless cold. We hang the carcass by running a steel rod through its achilles tendons. Grandpa & Stepdad refer to a murdered family in Consort whose place was burned down, suspect the son was involved in a drug deal gone bad. (Cohen bros. come to mind. Real life in Alberta & BC seems a blend of Big Lebowski and No Country). Skinning the elk. Carving it up. Learning the different cuts of meat, where t-bones come from, tenderloin, round steak, sirloin. Cool. Mass more than a 100 lbs of meat for jerky making. Country cousins comin over the next few days to help with cutting it all up. Striking a balance between fine articulation and the art of laughing. Turns out Everyone respects poetry for the audience. Good god y'all.