#7, He’d filled it uP.

#7, He’d filled it uP.

and goings on the NEW 

WOrlD, worleD, twirled

flying rushing thoughts

It’s ThE EartH, StupiD!

turned round upon themselves

turn, turn, turn

Sometimes I like to paint

the scene in front of me.

Sometimes I like to remember 

the scene, and simplify 

the arrangement 

things in the Imagination.

Jack thought there should 

remain some reverence 

he, Jack, Henry, and the Company

had all--

struggled beyond, some failed at this

The Henry’s were struggling 

behind, 

Jack meant,

how could that foolin around 

out there 

get us any where?

well Crispin was way beyond 

A job-- there was none for Jack

He would write his nonsense trying to

spin it Rumpilstiltskin like into goldlike, 

sense but 

not the green cash 

4.

you have in mind

you had forgotten the real gold 

in this metaphor,

a meta beyond,

and you don’t believe in beyond,

the doubling otherness of every idea 

in heaven of our thoughts

Heaven is ok 

if just here in my mind 

under my mountain.

Just don’t make any promises

by the fence post,

 in the milk weed

the ole weed around the 

cycle, through a sublime 

moment in the sun

just the thought is sublime itself

and dies

as our saving-- 

self

in the sunset promising 

at the very least 

tomorrow but then Jack 

had his poem to take along and 

increase that chance of any hope,

this was for you, 

Save Yourself!

back to the dream and 

lowly beginnings

the leaves 

6.

were blowing in the shopping malls 

and corporate headquarters

and here I am in Kansas, damn!

I have to get this right

each revolution 

had to increase, Jack felt 

he was spinning, 

not just his wheels and 

he liked the spinning idea 

of the earth, and the spinning 

of everything else along-

He was driving 285 

south from Denver

this Hero going his own way--

that town, that city, that urban affair

hid what he came here to see 

that diamonded 

clank changing chance 

crop, fragmenting--

big idea! dying 

before it had any chance to be

TruE

They thought they needed more

  guns, Jack wrote on

his horse sauntering

in the whithering sage,

naked on that horse 

with an older god

out there

he felt he was the very earth 

7.

spinning, 

floating in his oasis 

of thought, Jack thought, 

“ I am it, it is I.”

Achilles took it apart and 

Crispin was wanting 

to put it back together

figuring out 

what it might mean 

realizing as he wrote it meant just 

this, and why Jack kept on

It was good just going 

to the hardware store 

the mountain clarity and 

snow on peak, blowing

he remembered the prayer flags 

though he had disregarded 

the warning of bad luck

Jack was the hilarious fella,

extreme in the page.

a little poof, or puff--

Prophetic intention.

Looking back on his City

his Bridge

talking about the weather

the prophesy 

Crispin kept to himself though

you might overhear him

out on the edge of the Village.

The real Apocalypse is no Apocalypse--

Why? is it yet unfound--

The Earth creating itself, 

we all, in the stars revolving

City and Country disappeared

The sunset painting into violet

color and MilKy Way

into Sunrise

the cycles circles

and Universe and

moments between

the black 

and the white

circling

all passing, revolving

here again

in the stars

Jack stood there in disbelief 

Achilles looked at the towers

Crispin looked at the Aspens

They were jumping out of the building 

Gaia herself was putting 

it all together into a spinning 

One thing

we were mirroring 

what was, 

in our minds what we 

comprehended even beyond seeing

our thoughts were the 

characters, for this constant 

narrative unfolding in our heads 

a hall of mirrors 

reflecting to an infinity

all compared to ideals, and 

dreams of objects that

may or not be,

Jack was seeing that this 

structure was a preoccupation 

beyond the thing, 

where it fit 

in the whole order.

Leviathan diving and 

surfacing in a rhythm,

seen in the stars.

Even the Bang! 

One.

Surface 

we name ourselves --feel 

attached to

getting a glimpse

he enacted the change. 

He pursued and never let up.

So you might not like the square 

blocking 

what you thought to be--

to be out there

it was Heaven really

why should it just be handed to one?

Maybe the Bang! 

15.

and a turning--

Crispin thought the differing aspects 

expressed it best and none 

were perfect or ideal or 

transcended this process.

Jack thought of this 

entering the west 4th Street Station

he had a pocket full of drawings 

Subway drawings 

they kept this thought present 

and he felt a bit of a sage, 

that meant crazy mad,

Prophetic

Just what was there, he saw.