TWO The wet convulsions striking everywhere and the fling of - TopicsExpress



          

TWO The wet convulsions striking everywhere and the fling of passion turning on itself renew the light to cleanse the pure sun witness. I lay back on the blue walls of heaven. I count the fine lines of morning etched out before me. I dissolve like mist and turn myself to air golden as liquid fire, green as a bunch of grass. The father of wind stands howling on the roof sea waters crumble, goats and sheep in pens and fowls in feather, wood around my head earth bending nearer nearer like a tree. The cold foot moves silently in the midst of rain fires awaken and blown ash goes whirling in the world; a touch commands, a voice is mingling and things commingle, rivers rise and ebb. The point in life in strict suspension vibrant. The blazing seed but no blue smoke nor fume. The rich dark earth and the heavy smell of air no thunder and no lightening and no sound no visible looming, only conscious strife. Behind morning, behind the drawn lines of morning behind the golden fires and the green fires, and behind myself, and behind the light, and behind the wood around my head, and behind the crumbling sea waters, behind the regions of daylight, to the place of the mountain, the big big mountain the high sky of humanity lifted by a child. - Martin Carter two times two and counting.. a luta continua
Posted on: Mon, 15 Jul 2013 14:27:40 +0000

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