a flock of pigeons mills about in a lazy dance, pecking and shifting then explode into panicked flapping, as they wheel about, gaining spontaneous unity, reaching investigation mode, they bank heavily, like a C-130 gunship -- a Puff the Magic Dragon -- pivoting onto a target
it's beauty & chaos & pristine vistas & unfiltered slop soup & kungfu fighting animals, madly mauling each other but it's also creatures pulling critters of another kind out of the mud pits sea turtles keeping afloat sailors pitched overboard it moves in mysterious ways, but never malicious ways it's savage & vicious, but knows not evil -- for evil is solely the domain of the labeling class it knows not virtue either, the closest it knows to goodness is the experience of experience the Now, a moment unfolding with the least possible effort, and with no thought whatsoever
Born from the Black, He wormed through the World. He dove into Death, Vanishing back into the Black.
breath ceases and the body is quiet and the mind is calm and there is nothing no world no throngs no hordes no disasters breath returns & so does the world
a typhoon stalled offshore, and dreary clings to this place a miasma written in solid hours when will clouds crack & let the light in? just one blue bolt of sky, showing through a crevice? my head is in fog, and I can't hear my pounding heart over the crashing of waves
crack the tablets: smash & shatter them until they flutter into dust, dust that's wisped into eddies and sparkles in the creek bed and is flushed out to sea and is but a glittery trace of what they once were.
ideas accelerate to the surface like air bubbles from whence they came, i cannot say they passed up from below the lit sea from the darkness maybe, like air bubbles, they follow a mostly straight path, but i cannot say for certain what happens below the light i catch only the vapor that drifts up out of the popping bubbles and it must be gathered quickly before it spreads on the wind, becoming lukewarm nothing... damn increasing entropy!
in the monkey forest, i think of Sun Wukong & Hanuman as a macaque steals my sunglasses
waves roll over with a soft crashing white noise that splays out into a sizzle as foamy water expands flatly over hot sand until the sizzle is washed out by the next wet crash and then more sizzle and then more crash sizzle & crash crash & sizzle
As in Hokusai’s Great Wave,
I watch waves roll over,
before a volcanic cone.
Though these waves are
small & close,
they are perfectly rounded.
And though the distant volcano
looms large over the shore waves,
it has perfect symmetry.
I feel the roundness
&
simultaneous devastating power
of both elements at once.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 