August 2000 - Letter 14
Letter for the Journey Home

So then instead
of Star Federation labor disputes
a certain future of no
((or little)) vegetable fiber
and lesser city culture…

instead, return to mountains
streams & an ocean gentle, back
to the politics of ego & displacement
back - to neon & the sea of red
lights, the land of the holy chariot…

back - indeed! To a time of Slaughter
and non-existent community, to the
smorgasbord of diversions none as intense
as those in this city
of tenth power distractions

so deep, a rip-tide to pull
down any man. Back
to animals & wars against
fleas & two-a-day walks
& canine & feline diets.

Back to the grind, an August
in progress, a scheme
eternal, back into your
arms, your smile
your certain loins.

Back to the fledgling hedge
& a summer intensive, back
to the Northwest to humble
circles & the concrete
of Slaughter, back to slay

backwards ways & disengage
anger. To foster the knowledge
of a don Juan the energy
no man ought extract
from the boy - the energy.


Energy finite & elusive,
active, at work - original
force of expression
                    or utterance
inherent power, capacity

for vigorous action, antidote
to wheel-spinning for inner
journeys into the past, the
re-written unknown into strength
or power sufficiently exerted.

Back to the resources, from which
power can be derived ((your
eyes, skin, smile, your
gateway to the tantric
power plant.))

Back to the capacity
for doing work, back
to the whole system
primer, back to the
treacherous illusion

or the flow to prevent same, back
to the farfelle not as authentic
back to the far-fetched realities
brought back from a distance, back
to the fledgling farm in the suburban yard.

Back to the practice, back
to where anger is a tool
not a weapon, back
to the complete transformation
back to portend a death & successful conclusion.

Back into the teeth of hungry
ancestors, back to where they
back & support you, back
to look east & into
the future, back into hard work

undertaken joyfully, back to
no giant lake & little
soft cities, w/ no shoulders
no great plans ((minus
the ones self-generated)).

Back to the cyber-illusion
                & the reckless endangerment
back to the yaw
                        of the mystic discipline
lugging the missing honor.

Back to the work, refortified
w/ the heartland's essence.
Back w/ a plan out of
Alinsky's playbook, back
in search of the authentic song.

And to that which can
shape it, temper it,
separate it from delusion
derision & hacking, back
to strengthen the field

for its recognition & assimilation
back to hear it more clearly
back to pour out the blood
filled rigor to continue
the dynamic stain.

peN#980
3:47A
8.14.00
Chgo