99 315 30A 
Intuition

May this feeling last forever.
May the joy be savored
as each summer apricot, every
mango ripened to touch
every tree-ripened stolen plum
as were neighbor raspberries
and that first smile of yours
in my kitchen.

May the animals
have all they need
as comfortable soul companions
in real food, in love
attention, treated
like the ancestors
they are

or will be. Like the totem
animal appearing in a 
                               ceremony (Raven?)
or the deepest sign
of bone-chilling
                 synchronicity.
(Magic, a cliched word,
applies.) Psycho
physiological is what
a Rebel Lion likely'd
 say. 

The syllables go on
canvas like the paint
they sometimes are.

Sometimes.

You 
are a vision
                      in a bright

room, you 
are a
                          candle burning.

May this feeling last forever.
Let it illuminate the
dark days.
Let it beckon certain
futures. Let this
sculpture
of meat
continue to unveil
its righteous self

while the white
of its soft underbelly
sees the light
of day.

Right action or anyone
of eight paths, simultaneously
leading 
to the pathless land.

We all find our way
or not. Some stumble
in some way, or not,
to get there, this field

Elysian. 

Gods (Goddesses) with a home
field advantage.

Here in the field
act quick and recognize.
Catch the moving train
of thought.

"To use an old jazz term
he's cooking now."
This is one meat
 stew you 
         want to burn.

This is the conundrum
paradox
the illusion.

This feeling, this negative

capability, this holding
 - gratuitous - 
of polarities.
(This a complex system.)

Yet simple @ its
core. Elegant. The
need to be self-
aware relevant,
effortless

as breath.

A full breath of lungs
fully experienced.
Release of endorphins.
Drawing breath in
an
old
growth
forest.
 

(Ranks are
               thinning.)

Restraining impulses.
Gathering information
"If it's boring we've
done our jobs" still
in this moment.

(The same as yesterday
only different. More
amused. Silent. Cooking
to use a jazz term.

Word Jazz
life jazz.

Riffing on a thing
called life. An improvisation,
no lurch, a cat-like
movement - grace,
no sorrow. All specific,
intentional. No regrets
Coyote.)

May it last forever
this feeling. May it
dart & squirt, no
residue. May it linger.
Like your presence

after you've left
the room. Like Elvis

leaving the building. A
residue psychic
if you will          citizen.
This is an August
moment, part lazy/part
intellectual, all
organic & permanent
in a sense. (Documented.)
 

 LOADED 

with
 

             intention. (A road map
visible, but prone
to vamping.

(Zawinul directing
with elbows
rocking. But something
more elegant than
his Korg,  A
Bill Evans piece
or Miles, maybe
Misterioso but at the same level.)

The vamping, the working
a riff, a vibe,
the ease at which
accomplished.
(Dancers know. Intuit.)

Intuition.
 
 
 

peN #741
1:20AM
8.30.99 
ESTSE