Written at Hinkle.
A thought transition from dream state to wakefulness, including midway grogginess, or an awakening coalescence of collective moments of clarity
A single thought oscillates between three different timelines, one actual, one imaginary, and one historical.
The siblings of grammar and syntax being the only acceptible anchor for those thoughts that threaded their way out behind the leaders, each clamoring for all the attention of any whod bother to read into the fringes of their relevance, sometimes contemplating, sometimes voicing, other times, just, listening. And it wasnt always this cacophony of bombardments either that were making all this racket, see I, HAD to get someone's attention, because people had taken to kicking each other in the nuts for excitement, and the training regimens were getting very very savage, and resilience as a motive was losing the attention it had gotten way back in the beginning of class, and as I wander, around this beach, with this mindless mouth full of random pebbles, i can yet only remember, with a tearful eye, and a solemn heart, those old acquaintances I once had, the different chemistries, with different beings, each managing to steep the teas of their experiences, just a bit differently than everyone else, except for that one thing, that remained the same, that, chemistry, of feelings, existence, reason and unreason, that melody, that occasioned rhythms into that magical dance of music, as it sent so many senses into complete bliss, and they all danced together, around the campfire, and laughter echoed throughout the forest, and the drums, that let the animals know something, that even we did not know…
Time after time, I find myself comparing myself with the different run down shacks I inhabit for shelter, the one I'm in now, an old irrigation pump shack, with all the electrical boxes still inside, but gutted of all the wiring, and cables that would light the thing up, and actually run the place, oh, the well in front of me produces just fine but, thing is, it draws its power from another source altogether, maybe it comes straight from the line pole, right from the transformer box, and into the equipment here, I dont know, seems a little crazy, having this kind of voltage this near so much water, so conductive, Impossible to know a bit of electrical geometry I guess, who knows, maybe I know more about it than I give myself credit for, maybe, I can stop banging my head about all the loss and ignorance I've seen and managed to foist out of myself, and finally also stop letting all that damned resistance get all my attention, they say doubt is not the same thing as thinking before speaking, maybe I should wonder what the hell they were talking about when they said that, I shall have to ask them, when I see them, and if indeed there are so many of them, maybe we can get to some sort of accord, as to what to do now that I've listened and heard them, what a mystery, they want peace, but they want a bigger piece of mine than I'm willing to part with, I wonder how many in this argument have had this same thought, yet been afraid to voice it, and exactly how many very same reasons were there, for that unspoken accord, also, how many reasons were there for not speaking, that were just a tiny bit different, but held just enough of a main point, just enough common element(s), for the group to actually rue their indifference, for them to reach toward those interestingly unmentioned threads, and of those how many were pleasantly surprised to hear another group adding that reason among their necessities for the accord, and HOW and WHY has this conversation NOT been happening ALREADY?! I suppose weve only been a species for forty or fifty thousand years, so the number of generations must be FAR under that, yes, much less than fifty thousand generations, since we became human, and the hair shortened, the gills shrouded, fins turned to hands, brains divided into minds, speech took over grunting and posturing, well, not entirely I suppose but hey, life wouldn't be boring at all, if we were telepathic now would it! And believe me, there are those out there who think it's actually happening, just because a tingle occurs to them somewhere in just the right place, or part, such a savage reality to ignore, that all those places will never be seen, all those crying needs will never be met, the wants, the fears, desires, the chase, ooh, wait a minute, I feel a buffalo ribeye sandwich coming on, better get my bow, and I'll just hope the horses have rested and watered enough, I'll have to wake up every morning to the squaw and and our young yelling and screaming if I do not make a kill soon, that, well I should head out now, the fall closes in another cycle, pelts will be in short supply, arrows, flints, and theres the other matter of the pale ones encamped outside our valley, they don't know were here, and we don't want to tell them, because we've heard what they do.
Hyah!
©danjor
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