Category Archives: shards

what they can’t abide

WHAT THEY CAN’T ABIDE

What they can’t abide is when you sit back sipping tea with your stocking feet up on a hassock and blow smoke their way from under hooded eyes.

What they can’t abide is how you take your shattered life and stack it stone by stone into a monument to grief.

What they can’t abide is how they strip you of your epaulets and you suck in cyanide and exhale roses.

What they can’t abide is how their daughters meet you in a place they can’t locate and bear your children.

What they can’t abide is how you vanish every time they draw their sword and leave them screaming challenges into an empty sky.

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vision quest

Vision Quest

The Can-Do contingent, trained from an early age to go steely-eyed and take names. Here they come now, marauding down the avenue like a street gang.

For 80 years they’ve tried to hammer me into silence, and now they still want me to shut my mouth. Not on my watch, Masked Man. If you’re going to stick a stick in my hive, expect a visitation from hornets.

A real Vision Quest strips it all away. Friends loved ones and enemies fall by the wayside. It gets cold on the mountain top, and you grow thin eating snow.

 

***

I’ve been watching a lot of Werner Herzog lately. He was one of my latter-day heroes, but as time goes on, my heroes have a shorter life span. Herzog’s taken to making documentaries and has turned into an echo of himself. Last night he was cavorting around making off-beat observations at the South Pole in a documentary titled Encounters at the End of the World.

Thanks to someone else’s documentary, a lot of people are familiar with the punishing migratory/mating habits of penguins. The message seems to be that the hand of God can be seen in this strenuous migration, and that there is strength in numbers, but leave it to Herzog to pick up on a solitary penguin that has broken away from the flock and is making its way over thousands of kilometers of tundra toward the ice mountains of Antarctica. Now there’s a Vision Quest I can bow down to.

This penguin’s brave journey made the rest of the documentary seem irrelevant, except for a brief passage in which a scientist becomes excited like a child trying to tell what a neutrino is. “Neutrinos,” he said, “are so small that they pass through everything in the universe without ever making contact with anything; neutrinos are not aware that the universe exists, and the universe is unaware of them.”

It occurred to me that we humans might be neutrinos on a larger scale, passing through an omnipresent God without ever making contact, and that this lone penguin, marching toward icy mountains that he will never reach, sums up this vision in his solitary journey.

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vanishing point

Vanishing Point
(musings written on a long-ago winter day)

 

It’s snowing in Ellensburg.

But it’s not snowing in Sacramento, Prague, Hamburg or Athens, because these places do not exist.

Wait a minute, you say. I am in Sacramento.

And so you are.

For you Ellensburg does not exist, and I am nothing more than a synaptic agitation in your brain.

 

***

I’m on my hill in my work van with darkness coming on, and Ellensburg is disappearing right before my eyes.

If you’re one of the few who reads these Shards instead of hitting delete, you know which hill I’m on, but the hill you’re on might be in Prague with a view that’s foreign to me and frequented by people who speak a strange language.

It takes courage to climb someone else’s hill, but it’s been going on since man first stumbled upon language, and will continue long after Ellensburg has vanished.

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what if

What If

He showed up on the streets of Cleveland like a reincarnated d.a. levy, making heavy proclamations prefaced with the words “what if”. The one that riled everyone, from the police commissioner on down to drug pushers, was: What if every living entity is solely concerned with its own perpetuation?

It was the word solely that put them over the edge, it stripped the veil off of everything from save the whales to parental love.

What if, he said, parental love has nothing to do with love of the child but love of the way having a child makes one feel?

No one knew where he came from. He was lean with the weathered face of someone who’d spent his whole life harvesting crops. He had a small knot of a scar in the middle of his forehead, as if someone had boarded up his Third Eye.

He was found under a bridge with strips of duct tape over his eyes and mouth and a punctured lung. An investigation concluded it was suicide, that the man (he had no I.D.) was filled with self-loathing. An animal shelter paid for his internment, and he was buried in an unmarked grave of a non-denominational cemetery.

Everyone was relieved, until flowers began appearing on his grave and the expression “what if” began showing up in the vernacular of the young.

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trip the light fantastic

Trip the Light Fantastic

I have my doubts about that. Whether it would be fantastic or not. To trip the light, I mean. Where to start? At the source? Halfway thru light’s journey to nowhere? And if you succeed, what then?

These are the sort of questions that arise once you contemplate the impossible. An insult to scientific inquiry. To regimentation.

Light is a scalpel, slicing thru darkness. Light creates space and time. The complications are infinite. How can you measure space without light? And there is no time without space.

Back to God’s drawing board where the inconceivable gets mapped. The birth place of the immaculate conception.

It’s distasteful to the orderly mind that the whole thing could be arbitrary. That light could vanish. That on a whim from God, darkness could be made to travel faster than light.

Vast unknowns, poised on a precipice.

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traps

Traps

There are no traps. There are only wrong turns in the labyrinth. The thing that eats us alive is indifferent to our self-conjured differences.

Look but don’t touch. Profound until it’s connected to a Van Gogh that even his brother couldn’t sell when Van Gogh was alive; now it’s going for half a million on the auction block.

IN today’s world, even the seeds of the earth are incorporated. So buy a motorcycle, do the Easy Rider thing. But sooner or later you’ll have to pull up to a gas pump.

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