Thursday, April 23, 2015

Amourterre (The Land of Love in Consciousness)

In and of and by this naked consciousness I am, and in this consciousness I find I've made a land of love.

That this discovery of self was lost at first in common seas of objectivity is just the way it is.

It's in conditioning, both chemical and social, DNA and Gladys, Leo, years of public education, television, well, you name it,

that I came to see the world as something outside myself. My daffodils are laughing at such obvious forgetfulness of its own headlessness,

or stated otherwise: this land of love is my own headland. It's Cape Farewell, Lands End, and Diamond Head all rolled in one,

and every element of it is not at all objective. Science calls it quantum probability; I could name it now potentiality,

but for the sake of this romantic poem, the land of love shall do what it shall do, and that, my secondary character who may be listening,

is love. This poem is now your own creation. There's no end to it because there's no beginning. Otherwise, it's all imagination.

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