and this now and this now and this now and this

Art by William Blake
from Songs of Innocence and Experience, William Blake

it’s becoming somewhat old,
this becoming new

it’s the endless procession of multiple infinities
the pancaking and demolition of any structure that we had the audacity to rely upon,
the sinking “oh no, not again” that presages our disconnect from our familiars
and ushers us into a place that none of us has boldly gone before
(Like when the carney guy takes a smoke break
and the ferris wheel never stops)

i don’t mean to cop an attitude:
i really really can be in the now!
but as soon as i begin to get comfortable,
there’s another one right on its heels, then another,
it’s this now after this now after this now after this
my god! they multiply exponentially like bunnies hopped up on chai tea and donuts!
(Like speed dating, but there are no deep-fried appetizers
and you know you’re going home alone again.)

it’s feeling more than a little irritating,
this evolution into multidimensional, crystalline consciousness —
sprouting new chakras and reknitting that pesky DNA,
i mean really, if all we’re doing is reconnecting with exactly who we’ve always been,
why does it take so freakin’ long?
what’s with the slogging through the emotional mud,
the revisiting our personal Waterloos,
the unending inner road trips on highways perennially under construction
or closed altogether for resurfacing–

and what’s up with the release and the clearing?
it’s enough to make your bubbie opt out and skip the brisket altogether,
and why?
so each of us can reach the penultimate moment
that brings us right back to exactly where we started from?
(Like getting slammed when you yank yourself out of the matrix
and then you get slammed again so you can receive a download
so you wake up with a savant’s finesse of computational physics
and an emotional guidance system that will take you
to andromeda and back without breaking a sweat.)
(Like no one could come up with a faster, easier way?)

and what about this hanging out in the void thing?
this Inanna/Ishtar hanging on the meat hook for three days and nights thing?
you glance in your rear view mirror and see yourself pulling away from everything
you once felt an uncommon resonance with,
part of you wants to go back and reacquaint yourself with the already known
instead, you choose to gaze ahead
you see yourself moving toward something that was once but a distant haze in your belly,
transfixed, your focus takes on a laser-sharp precision
the landscape beckons you with a wry, knowing smile
leans forward to scoop you up with four hundred and seventy-three arms
and wrap you in a blanket lightly toasted by the sun
(Like hearing harp music as you are greeted at the taco bell drive-thru window,
even though you know you forgot your wallet.)

9 thoughts

    1. I was a little confused, too. Your Comment came from ram0singhal, who had linked to this post of mine. So, actually, he (she?) is the one who left you the lovely (divine) comment. Glad you found your way here, however it happened. ( :


  1. @Pacha34, @windybound,

    Great to have both of you visit — but I can’t figure out how you found your way here. Care to illuminate me?

    Pacha, your photo blog is quite arresting.

    windybound, looks like you’re just getting started with your WP blog. Any plans to continue?


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