Umbrellas Unopent in Tempests, Part XIX
Deedy, deedy,…dadeedy, dadeedy …Indeed there was a deed…Even out here in the forest Itwethey had staked out as improbably open..As beyond property. thera warz that little makeshift nomadic thingze of evil devil lived livelar vaxplore expladitious. Itwethey had stood there, on a ragged beach, loose skin adhering and also flecks of sand, magnanimous (and Itwethey is on the war path if, as seems to be the case, flecks such as this (with wind, with womb, with will, with winwomwillsheenxshine,) are to be denied: No! Itwethey will cast die down and all the wonder of silent, soft, deedy-da-do-daeio-emfromafreao-emfradtao will come to the rescue of Itwethey’s cast, of this Itwethey has house odds. (More than that. Here, house is church.)
It would all be better if when we hit upon one of the about 500 ways of harmonizing there truthfully and legitimately are to be hit upon, we had found a resting place. We don’t start from a resting place. We start squealing and screaming, naked. No kind of Guest, or, if Guest: greet us by wiping off womb-stench, womb-(slime: note, Itwethey does not reach for that word “slime” though that is the perfect word, in this instance, in this context, for this purpose, for this LOVE.)
Slime-love: "welcome." We certainly do. There’s probably not an ounce of aforethought or planning or estimation or evaluation in it. Get it out of your nose and mouth, that you may breathe. We wonder at your story. We want your survival more than your LOVE--we will sustain this want, be assured (and insured, if to be insured means we cooperate for your fragile survival.)
The equation here, which is one of the most powerful in the history of our kind, is: harmony=resting place. Resting place = “openness” (the acolytes and apostles do say), =”passivity” (that this last is so is more obvious, but let us be frank…To equate this obvious thing with what follows to a red-blooded American male—passivity = wuss; that’s not an obvious move, and probably most of the erstwhile afortainedmentioned would say so also, standing in line for a ham sandwich, which is smothered in cayenne and bobdylansmickers, ice cream sandwich to follow (as immaculate description)...
It would all be better if when we hit upon one of the about 500 ways of harmonizing there truthfully and legitimately are to be hit upon, we had found a resting place. We don’t start from a resting place. We start squealing and screaming, naked. No kind of Guest, or, if Guest: greet us by wiping off womb-stench, womb-(slime: note, Itwethey does not reach for that word “slime” though that is the perfect word, in this instance, in this context, for this purpose, for this LOVE.)
Slime-love: "welcome." We certainly do. There’s probably not an ounce of aforethought or planning or estimation or evaluation in it. Get it out of your nose and mouth, that you may breathe. We wonder at your story. We want your survival more than your LOVE--we will sustain this want, be assured (and insured, if to be insured means we cooperate for your fragile survival.)
The equation here, which is one of the most powerful in the history of our kind, is: harmony=resting place. Resting place = “openness” (the acolytes and apostles do say), =”passivity” (that this last is so is more obvious, but let us be frank…To equate this obvious thing with what follows to a red-blooded American male—passivity = wuss; that’s not an obvious move, and probably most of the erstwhile afortainedmentioned would say so also, standing in line for a ham sandwich, which is smothered in cayenne and bobdylansmickers, ice cream sandwich to follow (as immaculate description)...
posted by Yusef Asabiyah at 7:59 PM
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