So far I have not lost myself.

Dear Tess,

A radium sunlight feeds the connection of my lifelong desire. A weeping strains with my surrender
into the love that keeps me out of darkness, beyond light, into the coming back for more.

They say Jean Paul Sarte sat in a cafe contemplating the meaning of existence.
I sit here dans la Cafe Montreal looking out onto the busy street, watching the week-end passerbys
busying themselves with five days of errands rolling backwards. And all that comes to mind when I start to contemplate the meaning of existence is “We’re fuct”.

I said it out loud. “We’re Fuct” catching the attention of a little man with a red face, who stinks of gas and grass starts chewing the flesh off his wrist like a ravenous wild dog. I posture out of attention just as I begin my prayer to the moon God ‘sin’. This odd little fucker
begins muttering spit-babbling words which resemble those political institutions I read about
after the island graffiti shipwrecked into the alley walls some time yesteryear.

This cosmic idiot starts into my hope cloud, bent on breaking my spirit, really
rallying to resuscitate those fears my decomposing skin-sack fought hard to forgot.
Instants before I open my black hole bag of magical content, I begin to pity the idiot.
My pity allows him another million moment to light a cigarette, take his shoe off, and change
his white sock into black. Signalling he knows what is bound between the magic bag
and his shit-fucked-grass-stained-reality.

He stands up to charge at me like a battalion of beasts, savage and wild. Raving like
some asshole I knew who dragged with him a trailer of gas powered absurdity within a two ton tractor of seventeen hundred regrets circling around
a codeine habit which sourced the blood from his thigh to bleed black back behind both
his left and right eye.
I recognize the demon within.
Standing above me this monster is,
I knew I was drawn toward death again, to the end, to insanities. Fear flowers from the cracks
of the cafe cushions, darkness moans out from the baristas structure of affections. I lose my
shit into a panic my pen can’t catch up with,… “this is it” my moment mutters. “death has me.”

Death. Who wears the mask of the idiot I fought all winter forever to forget to know. I can’t believe
it, I refuse to be taken by the conjuring of my own self-loathing.
I burst into a similar spontaneous rage the goof gakked before slipping on the oil spill
trap set by the game April fool inherited.
Good bye gone gapes the magic sack.
Good bye Death and Evil, Black and White, Grass and Gas ends on the same theme it all started.
That of “seeing” with which it began.

Tess, Sarte giggled to realize what creates these sunday afternoon coffee shop adventures!
What declares that fighting the common fate(death) of humans is futile and diminishes life’s joys?
What is the one lie that separates us from each person?
I reread your letter again, it sings out ego after twenty-seven words which wizens the dream ritual inducing
my imagination. Real fear is to let-go into the imaginings one will wishes,…& the other shares.

Time to leave, the sun is setting. I leash up Gods dog Kinderdijk and make my way to the baseball benches
in Laurier Park. I think of the day you left. I think of how I am at my best when my roots are cut, when I drift and sway, when I am falling into the great swelling void. When I get glimpse of the really real reality, so crisp and so clear, lit up by a universal sun heaving life and love at us Tess, twin stars. Falling, rising toward the sun which desires us. We fly into a womb of warmth, giving into
its tropical sorcery, bleeding magical content into the river giver, this is the end of restlessness Tess. Movement and Place becomes infinite.
I and We and Symbols and words, and memory are exhaled by the absolute breathing of wholeness.

Giggling out of our blood-wrap, rooted in two undertakings, we detach!
Outside us we watch this concept, this us, these devilish I’s twisted, obtuse, stuck,
trying to solve difficult questions.
Pieces of a puzzle that does not fit into the pattern.

The sun dips under the horizon shooting out color and convalescence.
God’s dog hungers after adventure.
Life is sleepy from imaginations consistent desire and strain.

You asked me in your last letter “are you ready?”
My answer is yes.

(full contentment)

…dave~

Duck Butter.

We return to
our
stranger balancing on the edge of tears,
‘neath the light he digs his fingers under his skull,
hallowing out caprice to consult the oracle.

He has lost the path which will lead him home.

He feels for her resonance,
“Being! you are not connected to the earth!
What let you lost, forgotten. How high you arrived, how unaware!
Sutured being,…smile, allow for better waters now.”

He opens his eyes and unties his boots,
so to wander the way by the rivers edge.
Lying in high speed, he shuts his eyes, meditating
on the oracles vibration. allowing for the symbols of
his world to attach themselves to her precise rhythm.

Under the hood he penetrates a trampled black rose.
Thick within the ambient fluid of her foreign demise he
recognizes the first meridian
of a bloodless transformation.

“i reject you into nothing!” she cries

“Fuck” Awakened in the middle of nothingness,
Everything is daffy, obtuse and oblong.
The strangers symbol machine works absurdly
within the sanity of the one dreamer.

Aware in the ever-dimentional-infinity of all,
everything is illusory, like a holograma intelligence
curiously hypnotized by a functioning miracle.

Momentum inhales,
The stranger impregnates the great orbit by releasing his bag of dreams
not beyond it, but in it.

 Oh I Remember!
He decides on a palaver with a planet, he will ask his way to return.

“blackened spirit, follower of the light
I welcome you into my house, enter.
you are my unspoken memory
you are the humiliated dead,
you are the birthweight I burden
you are the unexplained reason,
for this choking sound.”

The stranger approaches another fragment which
begins the wonder if I am dead?

This wonder is like walking into a lung, where women
walk with little hats carrying sewing sticks, mumbling
band-aid wisdom, in and out, in and out.

Around this moment the strangers spine straightens to silence,
he grows ears and begins to listen.

”  You live in your head
Seeing the real in things,
Really seeing the real
No bees, No honey.
You are lonely describing
the exact actuality of what you see.
or what it is you seem to see.
You really seem to see the real
& the exact & actual reality of the real. ”

The next transformation arrives rapidly.

red honey or crazy honey, I care not!

Drinking the dripping nectar by
the black rose river. The ferryman
wicked in waiting. Bravery,
Courage, Bravery. I board
the boat, pay the toll, to repair
my repentance before the journey
begins back to earth.

“I need a world, or I will fade away.”

The stranger feels the burning of what was on his back.
Moving forward with the handfuls of light he has incubated from
the trauma of the past.

“(Da ima misla.)” he mutters.  Hope; she welcomes me.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EmkYhR_GLEg

This time next year.

Let me tell you a story…

It runs out from underneath; these bursts of madness.
Happening, without me.

What gave me the strength to get through the darkness, was the knowing that you did it first.
Tess.

Stirring honey into my coffee, I heard you between layers of flavor, asking me to dive in.
So simply I  joined the swirl.
In our black cup of camouflaged countenance,
we removed our masks, lifted our veils, shed the charade, and slid instinctively down
the curvature of our slave masters spine.
You turned to me and asked if I was surprised that this dark tower monster was constructed by
three billion mouths speaking words that would never ever be understood by anyone.

We felt them though, didn’t we Tess?

The weight of the chains. The disease of the slave.

Tess! I remember! Our moment of ecstasy, our lips inviting all our inhibitions inside.
Inside! your seduction chanted “Swim” and so i began to paddle, didn’t I Tess?
Like a puppy. In what
I thought was only a puddle. The puddle grew, slowly, seeping over the arid landscape of dormant energy.
I saw you dancing above the clouds Tess! Carrying me, enchanting this puddle into a tidal flow, I had no
choice but to swim Now! Swim with the current of mystery, toward the light, the light, THE LIGHT!

You spoke from my doubts, my insecurities, you spoke them so as I could hear them aloud.

Listen! you said. They’re dancing!

“am i getting stronger or will i disappear ?
will my heart be thicker and less full of fear ?

do i have to leave and admit defeat
and do you love me sober, when i land on my feet

and could i be wiser, i’d like to know
and what fate do i miss if ever i have to go

and will i be better
i’d like to know!

and will i fuck up again, in a similar way
and will i lose all my money
and have nowhere to stay
and will i lose my love
when morning comes
or will i have found the one
this time next year!”    your words, our brain Tess.

The light again grew distant, and the ocean filled with fear.

When my thoughts and words became heavy, you came to me in white, inside the inside…

“Lightly, Lighter, lighter still.” the best advice ever given to me.

I let go, I began to float, shining, void, inseparable from the great ocean of light. I began to see the lights and shadows of the sea, the blue spaces between the clouds, I was finally able to see you Tess. Finally able to take your hand in mine, able to feel,  able to stop swimming, confident, I  gave into the dance.

Tess you helped me get out of my own light, to understand that the wholeness I was seeking demanded that
i become one with yours.

Tess, the clear light out of which we were born! I see it! Inside our skull, outside space and time. It is always there.
It has always been there, like the setting and rising of the sun,  Pink sky below the steadfast orbit. Everything living and dying, dancing together, all laughter all desire, all the uncomplicated happiness, is right here, right now! Tess! I feel it!

“Now you can let go. Let go!” you demanded.

“Go on”

I did Tess. I am here Tess…. I am here,… now.

“fuck” I whispered. I surrender.

…dave~