If we could, would we?
Would we want to ignite
all of excited-ness
until there were no more
beginnings or endings,
until it was seamless?
So that there are no more peaks,
and it is all about endless glide.
So that there were no more
onsets and fanfare,
just wistful expanded fountaining.
Would we want to pounce on
“associated-with-thought”
and bring it to its feet of “clay” clarity?
Would we want to have it admit
its lackluster sidekick role
to the heart of the matter?
Would we want to vaporize
thought’s outlandish attachment
to results and conclusions?
Would we want an essence instead
that graciously
and uniformly fills everything
without those thought filled summaries
or the blame filled naming of names?
If so, we would want memories
to give up their attention passports
and find their place more appropriately
in the visions vines rooted
rightfully in the here and now.
We would want our futures
to meet our ancients,
almost as a successful dating service
that smoothes their way
into a constant deja vu,
of calling up the present.
We would want all those last
laments and remarks,
the ones just before death
and also their bodyguards of circumstance
that will hold them up to us,
to forget about it.
Forget those summational deliveries,
forget all the references made
towards any indications of wealth,
love, sincerity, honesty, merit,
or consensual worth.
We want all of that blather
to not even show up
with that inferential speech
and think that it has any status
because it claimed
some distant presence
in recalling any
of our share of spirits’ past.
Find for us the deep core
that has contact with all of life,
that goes into the closet
of these appropriate personalities
from before and a new,
and tell us
it means something more than
these lives of now
are just of transit existence.
Would we then be ready
to bludgeon experience
for it brashness,
to attempt to consume our attention?
Would we want to strip away
its entitlement
about immediacy and temporality?
Would we want experience,
our current method of experience,
to back away from the table,
and to give back those presumptions
about accountability’s insistence
and desire’s needs?
If so,
we would want somebody to tell us
that experience,
as we claim to know it,
really only exists
as our favorite shared disability
because of it’s consensual popularity
in a commonplace custodial kind of way.
We would want to ignite
beyond the moods of being up or down.
We would want to ignite
where there are no breaks or sighs,
no content floating to the surface,
no light and dark,
no stretch, no reach, no distance.
We would want feelings and thoughts
to be like busy water bugs,
on the surfaces
of these deep swims of soul,
where our whole bodies
were filled with a fluidity
that is the sweet sound
of evident coming to the surface.
We would want to ignite this existence
as our constant embrace.
We would want where space is
to be the only invitation we need,
and our movement,
our movement of any kind,
to be the endless kiss
of this space-embrace.
That’s what we would,
if we could,
want to ignite . . .
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