every terrible thing
is a relief
even months on end
buried in grief
are easy, light times
which have to end
with the coming
of your death friend
I was out in the open country, having left the following note on my mother’s night table:
“I beseech you not to send the police after me for I am carrying a gun , and the first bullet will be for the policeman , the second for myself. “
“I see a vision of a great rucksack revolution thousands or even millions of young Americans wandering around with rucksacks, going up to mountains to pray, making children laugh and old men glad, making young girls happy and old girls happier, all of ’em Zen Lunatics who go about writing poems that happen to appear in their heads for no reason and also by being kind and also by strange unexpected acts keep giving visions of eternal freedom to everybody and to all living creatures …”
“For her, reading was directly linked to pleasure, not to knowledge or enigmas or constructions or verbal labyrinths…”
The real substratum of myth is not a substratum of thought but of feeling .
Patterns, ratios, indexes, whole maps of information. I love information. This is our sweetness and light. It’s a fuckall wonder.