Material Life

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Material Life

Absolute science and art of being whole
           at one and under no delusion that
                      mankind (or nature) give a ****
                                 whether you amount
                                             to something or not.
                                                         Narrowed down
                                                                    nothing

nothing but matter matters, matter, content
           of life (serious, love it) hate
                      death, for the hell of it, to
                                 see what it's like in
                                              the heart of
                                                         darkness.

Deeper and deeper I go
           but who would bother to kill me
                      or love me? Belonging to the drums
                                 of wooful war I
                                             woof and bay like
                                                         every other
                                                                   dog.

Down I go to the depths of material life
           the material is spirit wrought
                      by the material world. The
                                 drum and jet plane
                                             the bird and sumac
                                                         the pollen
                                                                   seed.

No answer is forthcoming for the young fool
           importunes to ask too frequently
                      the fool's question. What
                                 is my next move. He
                                             steps lightly and does
                                                         not seem to care
                                                                   quite where.
                                                                               The

material world is reality, my friend
           and sadness is the spiritual root
                      without which the love-nut
                                 may be reached only
                                             by stretching
                                                         the emotions
                                                                   bare

raw, where desert delights exhibit
           movement in the sunlit light. Where
                      none find their way
                                 without following leaders
                                             sometimes the wrong way.
                                                         The path
                                                                   is

apart from the dance or the dancer who
           cutting cross country laughs
                      at his perennial fright of being
                                 caught outdoors, out of sight
                                             alone with the wind and rain
                                                          for days on end
                                                                    in hiding.
                                                                                Up

on the roof, the telephone ringing,
           books getting delivered to the library free,
                      gratis, no fight, no love
                                 a meager understanding
                                             of what rolls
                                                         the earth.
                                                                   Gravity

rolls the earth (and may sometimes rock it)
           each of us achieving the gravity of a planet
                      and pulling the world apart with our loves.
                                 Taking existence beyond the limits
                                             set for it, into
                                                         the universe
                                                                   beyond

We went out beyond the surf
           into the adirondack of trees waiting,
                      wanting nothing, mountains
                                 wanting to grow slowly.





Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

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