Tag Archives: Week 6

2014, Week 6: Untitled

birdman

 

His face is a shroud. His face is itself
faceless. It is every face softening
to mere thaw, running a river, turning,
turned, around the bend. Gone, away.

I had a dream, was delivered from it to
a lightless morning. The clouds outside
mutated slowly into shapes and figures,
symbols never seen before, already seen:

his lips covering the mouthpiece of a milk-pearl
abalone flute, his fingers sifting through
blessing powder the worn color of turmeric.
After that, I did not dream for many nights

and days were spent driving the blue-gray coils
of a sleepless highway. At a gas station the pump’s
TV monitor blazed, wordless. His face flickered
in and out with the poor reception — first a man,

his nose angled and proud, then a boy biting
the inside of his cheek. When the picture
came back on he was a bear cub, hunched
over and shoulders drawn, but eyes bright,

black, sharp like the stones in the creek
outside my bedroom window. The gas pump
jerked against the car, the clouds rolled in.
The screen went dark. His face was still there.

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Ancient Sea Monster

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Remember when we used to think that these things existed?

Some of us still do. Screw sonar.

-Aidan

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Aidan Week 6 – Ancient

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Form has not varied much from generation to generation, no matter which medium we use. This is my homage to my ancient brethren leaving their mark in caves for us to discover. They didn’t know we’d see what they did, and 99% of their work has vanished in transit, but I wish to fill in some of the mystery.

-Aidan

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All My Relations

I’m probably in serious danger of over-posting this week, but I know you’ll all put up with me.

“We remember that all things are connected…It is a part of healing and restoration. It is the mending of a broken connection between us and the rest. The participants in a ceremony say the words “All my relations” before and after we pray; those words create a relationship with other people, with animals, with the land. To have health it is necessary to keep all these relations in mind.

“The purpose of a ceremony is to put a person back together by restructuring the human mind. This reorganization is accomplished by a kind of inner map, a geography of the human spirit and the rest of the world. We make whole our broken-off pieces of self and world. Within ourselves, we bring together the fragments of our lives in a sacred act of renewal, and we reestablish our connections with others. The ceremony is a point of return. It takes us toward the place of balance, our place in the community of all things. It is an event that sets us back upright. But it is not a finished thing. The real ceremony begins where the formal one ends, when we take up a new way, our minds and hearts filled with the vision of earth that holds us within it, in compassionate relationship to and with our world.

“We speak. We sing. We swallow water and breathe smoke…We drive home. Everything returns to ordinary use. A spider weaves a web from one of the cottonwood poles to another. Crows sit inside the framework. It’s evening. The crickets are singing. All my relations.”

Linda Hogan, from All My Relations

 

 

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Genevieve’s Week 6: Merman

 

I caught a merman once, swimming under
that iron bridge near Wacker and Orleans.
I lured him out of the water by dangling
liverwurst sandwiches from fishing line.
I thought  I would keep him safe, a short
while only, behind my bedroom door.

He smelled like the thawed slush of late
February snow, or maybe it was more like dirty
rain and molding, half-finished milk cartons.
Either way he was humidity, a slick thing
that talked and spit, touched and licked his

lips. But my merman longed for light, for
air, for a breeze warm and certain enough to
lift him past the concrete horizon he’d stared
at from his riverbed. He began to wake at dawn,
whistling Papageno’s Aria, circling the classifieds
with a sharpie that squeaked and grated my nerves.

He found a gig baking bread. When he came home
at night he smelled of dust, pollen, flour – of things
that crumble and dissolve in strange, heaping clouds
and quantities, then take shape and reform only to
collapse once more. I thought of tossing him back

into the river. The very last time I saw him, I asked
him, red-faced and threatening tears, if he’d already
forgotten how to breathe water. He smiled so wide I
thought I saw points of aching stars, dim and lost like
lighthouses, gleaming from the back of his mouth. The
merman shook his head. No, no, he replied, not yet.

 

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Origin of Love– Hedwig and the Angry Inch

“When the earth was still flat,
And the clouds made of fire,
And mountains stretched up to the sky,
Sometimes higher,
Folks roamed the earth
Like big rolling kegs.
They had two sets of arms.
They had two sets of legs.
They had two faces peering
Out of one giant head
So they could watch all around them
As they talked; while they read.
And they never knew nothing of love.
It was before the origin of love.

The origin of love

And there were three sexes then,
One that looked like two men
Glued up back to back,
Called the children of the sun.
And similar in shape and girth
Were the children of the earth.
They looked like two girls
Rolled up in one.
And the children of the moon
Were like a fork shoved on a spoon.
They were part sun, part earth
Part daughter, part son.

The origin of love

Now the gods grew quite scared
Of our strength and defiance
And Thor said,
‘I’m gonna kill them all
With my hammer,
Like I killed the giants.’
And Zeus said, ‘No,
You better let me
Use my lightening, like scissors,
Like I cut the legs off the whales
And dinosaurs into lizards.’
Then he grabbed up some bolts
And he let out a laugh,
Said, “I’ll split them right down the middle.
Gonna cut them right up in half.”
And then storm clouds gathered above
Into great balls of fire

And then fire shot down
From the sky in bolts
Like shining blades
Of a knife.
And it ripped
Right through the flesh
Of the children of the sun
And the moon
And the earth.
And some Indian god
Sewed the wound up into a hole,
Pulled it round to our belly
To remind us of the price we pay.
And Osiris and the gods of the Nile
Gathered up a big storm
To blow a hurricane,
To scatter us away,
In a flood of wind and rain,
And a sea of tidal waves,
To wash us all away,
And if we don’t behave
They’ll cut us down again
And we’ll be hopping round on one foot
And looking through one eye.

Last time I saw you
We had just split in two.
You were looking at me.
I was looking at you.
You had a way so familiar,
But I could not recognize,
Cause you had blood on your face;
I had blood in my eyes.
But I could swear by your expression
That the pain down in your soul
Was the same as the one down in mine.
That’s the pain,
Cuts a straight line
Down through the heart;
We called it love.
So we wrapped our arms around each other,
Trying to shove ourselves back together.
We were making love,
Making love.
It was a cold dark evening,
Such a long time ago,
When by the mighty hand of Jove,
It was the sad story
How we became
Lonely two-legged creatures,
It’s the story of
The origin of love.
That’s the origin of love.”

   

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Ancient Memories Through the Astral Plane

Can you see them? Just beyond the mist, the faces of your ancestors call to you. The voices whisper words of wisdom, strength, and courage. They speak of golden statues, gracious gods, and gruesome beasts….of light, darkness, and the balance of nature.

Ancient Memories Through the Astral Plane

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by | February 6, 2013 · 2:13 am