An oriole is talking in syllabic windwood.
Motorboats are moaning on the brighter river.
We’re on the higher side of Maytime.
There’s a silver filament of consciousness
in every green or orange thing.
And every darkening form is like the ashes of its knowledge.
Like a black light rising to meet the sunlight,
this psychedelic song of self-awareness is just beginning.
Let this world of ashes fall as it may. The past will be the past.
The tree frogs are making their cameo appearance.
Our wetland light is turning the forest canopy on fire.
Ashes to ashes, I am not the ashes.
footnotes
not experiential exactly. that's just a word. more like inperiential in every way.
there's nothing ex about that.
it's what makes tuition intuition.
consciousness in, transistorizing body-mind, and self-awareness out.
ouroboric breathing.
base, collector, gateless gate.
taking my projection personally—there's a concept for you.
"In every event the entire universe is reflected. The ultimate cause is untraceable. The very idea of causation is only a way of thinking and speaking. We cannot imagine, uncaused emergence. This, however, does not prove the existence of causation."
it wasn't a show about nothing but everything is a show.
"Stiff all in the collar, fluffy in the face
Chit chat chatter tryin', stuffy in the place
Thank you for the party but I could never stay
Many things on my mind, words in the way
I want to thank you for lettin' me be myself again"
space-time appears in self-awareness. thank you, thank you very much.
"We're caught in a trap
I can't walk out
Because I love you too much, baby."
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