How John 3:6 stood up across the room and waved its hands.
THIS IS WHERE ALL CAPS COMES IN.
I texted the man I’ve never met: “what do you think of this?” –the fact that it came to me, stood up from across the room, chanted.
“I think it points away from the
illusion of this world”
I tried to write a poem about wrapping ones body in yew leaves.
“She was accustomed to beat her tender body, from the soles of her feet up to her chest, using sharp twigs and even the prickly branches of the yew tree.”
Other people take shades and lift them, at other times, pull new, dazzling shades over the body and twirl.
IF CAPS WERE NEEDED I’D USE THEM HERE. ADDED WITH A COUPLE !!
Riding in the car, back when I was 12 or so, my mother said “Honey, you’ll find that in life, you’ll end up with only a handful of close friends.”
This was because I was not popular, or the other girls made fun of my obsession with horses, and said I smelled like a trash can, and dressed like one, too.
NOW, I AM STILL THAT GIRL, BUT RELATIVELY SPINNING ON MY OWN MOON-LANDING.
I HAVE COYOTES THAT SING OUT. THE DESERT HAS LEFT FOOTPRINTS IN MY HALLWAY.
When I can’t write, I remember Spain.
Walking toward the Generalife, something took hold of my shoe and bit it. A vine of sorts, or a canary ghost that wanted, again, to fly. Instead, it lodged itself in my throat and I was left speechless for weeks. Something was stolen, then, in the round table belly of that garden. A way to work with things in order to tell their true shape-shifter name.
YES. I WOULD WRAP THISTLES AROUND MY WAIST FOR YOU.
I left this on the bathroom stall in the form of a flyer. I came back two hours later and someone wrote, in blue ink:
Could I video-tape you doing this?
Certainly. I scratched back.
Something tells me these conversations are imaginary. An illusion for illusions sake.
REALLY, I’D UNDERESTIMATE MY TOLERANCE FOR PAIN
FOR ECSTATIC REASONS.
The river told me to sleep, and God would speak to me then.
So, under the most moderate moon, I told myself to let myself in the water, let myself in the water-shed, let myself in the shedless water-skin, let myself in the infinite watering.
She let herself drift into a conscious state of unknowing, where unknown to herself she undid her blouse and thought her body a land understood by it’s crop. Thus, she wrapped herself in thistles and yew-leaves, telling the top-soil to off itself in the glorious wind.
Nothing stays here.
AGAIN, IN CAPS: NOTHING STAYS HERE
but, of course, my love for things that eat their mates for survival.
That eat their own skin, at times, to escape the hunter.
The fox or wild dog will eat through bone to beat man to the forest.
Once, I stood by the pool and told my mother that I didn’t know whose voice was coming out of my mouth.
Everyone experiences feeling unreal, Shannon.
NO. AN ALIEN ABDUCTION IS IMMINENT. DO NOT TELL ME OTHERWISE.
God told Adam to name the animals. And so the spirit of the boy was still in him. In him, the spirit of all the animals and then some.
What happened next, no one will tell you, but the yew leaves might.
THEY MIGHT TELL YOU IF YOU PIERCE YOURSELF DAY IN, DAY OUT.
I imagine you.
NOW I AM IMAGINING YOU
listening to the radio and hurting for something beyond the next plain.
Mathematically, an equation would go here to describe how, if a fourth dimension existed, your life would be going into a funnel of sorts, and your body would be mine, and understand: THE MIND ALREADY KNOWS THIS.
But screw calculus.
I mentioned I was thinking of you.
I AM thinking of you. Simultaneously, I’m understanding that nothing I could say could make people any less dull or full of themselves.
Because, I’m the chief of humanity. I’m God when I concentrate on my hands.
ALL CAPS WOULD BE USED HERE TO TELL YOU I’M FINISHED THINKING ABOUT FOURTH DIMENSION.
Note to self: kill whatever varmint is eating holes in the fourth dimension.
Walking toward the Generalife, a love for all things snaked from it’s darkness and shook at the site of the sunlight.
Why are you here, I asked.
For you, it said.