Mid-afternoon.
Beautiful day; you are sitting in Rose Hill Cemetery central under the shade of
a large Oak facing west. Carol is on page 147 of The Patriot Threat. You just
completed Chapter Eleven with the stats to drop in later. An hour earlier you
picked up lunch at Potbelly’s and drove here for the picnic because of Nature’s
nearby beauty and a shady spot. Earlier, before your Sunday exercises you
shared a new photograph on Facebook – this one with this comment above. - Amorella
** **
I first visited this bookstore in
the summer of 1960. Since the age of four (the old Uptown Westerville Public
Library was the first), libraries have been one of my favorite places. This is
my favorite. I am transfixed upon entering because the place is a personal
sacred space of poetic liberation, a Coney Island place of mind. I was and am
forever a Beat at heart.
***
** **
You are
home and replanted a second younger tree down in the woods. You now have the
stats on Chapter Eleven, which makes this chapter officially a near final draft
that fits next to the first ten. Here are the stats. – Amorella
**
**
Stats
Ch. 11 – Hole
in the Bucket
Words - 3066
Sentences - 265
Words per Sentence – 11.3
Sentences/Paragraph – 2.5
Passive Sentences – 1%
Flesh Reading Ease - 100.0
Flesh-Kincaid
Grade Level – 0.4
**
**
***
***
ELEVEN NFD - ©2016 rho
Hole in the Bucket
The Supervisor has a little saying:
Ring-a-ring
o'rosies
A
pocket full of posies
"A-tishoo!
A-tishoo!"
We
all fall down!
We
rise from clay
On
judgment day
Be
we dead or still alive.
The Dead
Merlyn
does not exist with the Dead, as his Soul is akin-to-whispering with his
friend. When alive, Merlyn did not fully exist; when his Soul was
akin-to-whisper to herorhis likeness in its hunger or not. Souls are Primary –
heartsanminds are less than primary. With recollection Merlyn thinks, when I
was alive I ‘felt’ I had a soul but I had no proof. Now, dead, I have no proof
I lived. Residual dreams are not proof. I was and am only in a dream. I dream
consciousness and I am. No melody sets in a raw note. Poetry must ebb and flow.
I sit now as rock without a touch of Earth. I don’t believe ever really I
stepped on life’s third rail with mine soul stepping on the rail too.
Merlyn
mutters, “How is it that wordlessness matters, that wordlessness designs
physics and beyond? Methinks
my heart wishes to be free of me but this doesn’t happen here among the Dead.
*
Two
naked souls once and without spine and eyes and trunk and hands and feet, we
now have Hearts and Minds too. Alas, these lesser, secondary sources are no
better than a leasing.
No
one can define life without the fact of being dead. Enough though says
Foretoken akin-to-responding to soul friend Venerable once as hungry as
sheanhe.
Well-spirited
Merlyn is heartanmind in soul to envision a multiple of dimensions within
multiple universes seen and unseen, universe known and unknowable. Merlyn thus
ponders almost in the unknowable – it breaks the conceptual on how souls
actually are. Have I one soul or two or three? Or, have I only a quarter or a
have? Perhaps three-quarter a soul will do? Perhaps a lone decimal point will
do? God? Where are you? A colossus holding up said Atlas point with nothing but
conjecture, whereas humans might conjure that gravity might be holding us up or
holding us down and around and around and around, we go corkscrewing around the
sun; we go corkscrewing.
Two
naked souls once without spine and eyes and trunk and hands and feet; now,
Hearts, we have and Minds too. Secondary sources are not of our own stuffing. All
souls know what they are – immortal and nothing less. Souls are stronger than
the physics guiding and framing many universes with developed life forms or
not.
Venerable
touches Foretoken in a notion – shall we let Merlyn see our souls shapes in unmattered
nature?
Foretoken’s
touch responds by sitting in the entirety of no-thing is Eternal –
Bliss-and-Not, smiling.
*
Merlyn
mutters, “How is it that wordlessness matters,
that wordlessness designs physics and all
beyond?
*
Shall
we let Merlyn see a soul’s shape in unmattered nature?
Methinks,
the once Merlyn – sheanhe wishes to be free but that kind of thing does not
happen.
Venerable
touches Foretoken in a notion and Foretoken’s touch responds in notion that
sitting in the nothing is Bliss Eternal. Here are two naked souls once and
without spine and eyes and trunk and hands and feet search the hearts we have
and minds too – alas, such are secondary sources not our souls own becoming
attached or eaten – one way or another dissolved within. Even to the humane
Dead, the heartanmind, cannot suspect we, the uncapitalized, are the primary –
mind, where is the heart’s self-interest in that?
*
Hearts
and minds rise and set in the ordered each even though we souls are as a breath
taken in. How was it though, that we souls were essence without wonder? Souls
are not self-generating. Souls are not self-serving. Such is, as seen through
weakness in reason floating dead and unattached.
Severed human, swimming dead unattached
is not soul’s clothing. Humanity waters in the soul, without a sense of
nourishment. Souls feed, it seems, on
the opposite of breathing in and out
*
A
new alphabet for a new thought in irregular form Life can be differently spelt.
Grammar as gravity is the same living or dead. Grammar is the soul’s shell
stored outside for good pickings in memory – a separate spirit recoiling in
memory without an inside or out – a line without end and forever doubted – no
more solid than a periodic period. A dot grammarly bent is not gravity but it
is where no word or no other punctuation is necessary.
The
Brothers
Robert
and Richard are at the Taco Bell on Schrock Road for an afternoon snack. Both
are sitting opposite of each other at their usual table. Robert had a steak
burrito and water with lemon while Richard ate a chicken burrito with a diet
Coke.
While
making sure his side of the table was clean, Richard asks, “What’s the book you
brought?”
Robert
picks it up from the chair next to him. “It’s a book showing the art by Edward Hopper, 1882-1967 by Rolf Gunter
Renner.”
Richard’s
eyes lit, “I think I have the same book somewhere upstairs or in the basement.”
“To
me, Hopper is an existential painter,” says Robert, “and I know your book is
formatted in an existential theme, so I thought there might be a painting in
here that would help me better visually better understand your Merlyn’s
dreams.”
Glancing
through the book Richard smiles saying, “I like art books. They give me
inspiration.”
“Me
too. In a recent poem I searched through old National 1Geographic’s for focus on a desert flower.”
“A
desert flower in the dead of an Ohio winter,” jokes Richard skimming the book
from beginning to end. Richard stopped. “I like this painting best, the one
titled Hotel Lobby. It is the only
painting where someone is reading.”
Robert sits patiently then comments, “That’s the one I thought you would
choose. There is another painting titled “Chair
Car” where a woman is also reading. Her hair is auburn. Still, it is a
rather desolate setting.
“Is that good?”
“For me it is. I have already written my ideas on
this.“
“Fair enough,” says Richard focusing on the painting
of the auburn hair woman reading a magazine. She is sitting in a railway car on
a light, olive green bench seat. The green theme permeates the railway car wall
behind her and the sidewall with the window. A lamp sets on the wall to her
right but is not turned on. The light is coming from beyond the painting in the
upper right hand corner. There is a dark haired lady in red sitting on the
opposite side. Richard observes the other Hopper painting. The woman in blue in
the hotel lobby is as a framed still life. There is a woman in red opposing her
also. A tall gentleman is standing near, perhaps ready to converse; perhaps he
will move on silently. It reminds me of Sartre’s No Exit.
“No Exit embodies
a leaking existential setting of Hell. Neither
Hopper or Sartre reflects the afterworld in your books though,” comments
Robert, “Merlyn is dreaming the stories. Each chapter has Merlyn as the first
card in hand and each segment is a separate card; always in order.”
“I hadn’t thought that,” replies Richard, “I thought
Merlyn dreamed each segment automatically. I was thinking of the DNA double
helix. The chapter segments binds the Living and the Dead like a double helix.
“He pauses, “Human beings are dreamers. That’s a given human condition.”
Robert replies sarcastically, “Human primates groom.
That is also a given human condition. So dead humans continue to groom and
dream of themselves and others in a kind of death releasing fantasy world.”
Richard shrugs his shoulders, “Sounds reasonable to
me. The Dead socialize and ask questions in the books so they have a social and
intellectual consciousness that is a part of who they are.”
Robert laughs, “If that is the case, people spend the
majority of their time between lines of importance. People talk about
metaphysics meaning the spiritual; but in the really long run of human
consciousness. You are dead a lot longer than you are living. Here’s my point,
“Edward Hopper appears to show he is conscious when he paints.”
Richard shakes his head affirmative and says, “That
he does.”
“Hopper is very deliberate.”
“I agree,” responds Richard. “In Merlyn’s dreams,
time is noted by length of sentences and paragraphs and space is noted by the
space between words and paragraphs.” He comments, “You want metaphysics, this
reminds me of a quote by William Blake.”
Robert suddenly reflects his brother’s smile, “What’s
the quote?”
“Both read the
Bible day and night. But thou readist black when I read white.”
Robert chuckles, “Metaphysics at Taco Bell.”
Richard laughs, “I forgot where I am.”
Robert laughs because his brother laughs and
supposedly for no other reason.
Grandma’s Story
Reality
is sloppier and hits you like a brick wall. Saint, sinner or indifferent,
doesn’t make any difference, says Grandma. There’s a Hole in Reality where a
Whole should be according to human beings who make it their unconscious intent
to correct this flaw.
Lord
Lakes, In case you have forgotten the genealogy this side of the ancient family
of Lord Thomas and Lady Hilda from the Scottish Isle of Arran to the twin Judah
and his wife Anne. Judah’s grandparents were Lord Renaldo and Lady Criteria.
These
two family stories take place in 1349.
Nineteen years earlier, young King Edward III took control of England
and seven years later the Hundred Years War began.
Lord Mark Thomas Lakes is now 57 and Lady Moira 49.
Their only son, James Robert Graystone is 24 and his lady to be is Greer
Gregory, age18, they will be married within the year. Robert and Greer are
staring out the window of the cottage on the estate watching the snow pile on
the branches of surrounding trees.
Clasping Robert’s large hand, Greer murmurs, “I could
stay here forever.”
“If we contract the Plague, it will certainly be the
case,” notes Robert. “It is a terrible death.”
“Why would God cause a scourge here, in England?”
Robert
responds bitterly, “You expected it to stay in France?” He is silently positive
– one day the Clergy will reason this horrific plague away.
“We are safe, dear Robert, at least for now,” says
Greer in earnest. “People from London come by our estates for food and shelter.
It is unchristian to turn them down but the winds blows the ill air to the east
and south. We are safer here than anywhere else.” She turned and bent slightly
to kiss his ear. “I love you, Robert. One day soon as you suggest, we may not
wake up, but find ourselves in a better place.”
“I love you too,” whispers Robert. “May God grant our
survival so that our may our parents not live to see us die first.”
Lord James Robert and his wife Lady Greer have son
Daniel, who carries on this family to the healthy age of fifty-five. On one
otherwise fine summer day, Daniel is trampled to death by a horse. His mother
and father survive another four years.
Grandma
sits soberly near a cathedral and comments to no one in particular, ‘A
percentage of fine children die before their fine parents.”
...
Lord
Stonebridge’s ancestor, who we also visit in this story, was Judah’s twin, the
older Jacob. Jacob was the grandson of Lord Renaldo and Lady Criteria, who had
married Ruth.
In
Oxfordshire, Lord Richard Montarran sits by the window watching the snowfall.
With him in the great room is Lady Sybille his wife and Richard’s mother Lady
Diana. Her only living son, John is out stalking deer with a friend.
“Such
snow,” said Lady Diana. “There is an insufferable chill sitting by that window
Richard, you’ll catch your death.”
“I
like the cold,” he muttered. “I would just as soon be out hunting with John.”
“He’ll
have to learn better with that bow of his.”
Grandmother,
Lady Diana laughs, “John isn’t very good is he?”
“No,
he isn’t. His arms are not developed enough to pull back a string,” replies
Lady Sybille.
“He
will get it down. The boy is a still a young fifteen,” comments Lord Richard.
His
mother, Lady Diana squints in the glare and her eyes watered slightly. Outside
the window not more than ten feet away stands her husband smiling at her as he
always does upon a greeting from London.
‘David,’
she thought. ‘Is that you David?’
The
apparition’s lips do not move, but the vision raises its right hand and waves
once.
“David,”
she says aloud.
Son
Richard responds, “Mother, are you chilling. Stay back from the window and come
over to the fire.”
“I
am fine Sybille,” replies Lady Diana. Is it a ghost, she asked herself, I have
heard stories but I have never seen anything such as this. There is such a
glare. He looks at me as he did in life, calm, deliberate, and wonderfully
warm. She cocks her head slightly to the left to see nothing. Silent words
raise – he looked real. I should have greeted him. I did not even wave. Richard
would think I me silly.
A
sudden empty feeling hits. Diana sits fearfully. ‘The plague; I saw Death on
the window and thought it my husband.’ She then excuses herself to rest.
The
apparition stands on the snow. This woman standing behind the glass appears to
be my Lady Diana. How now, and why?
Grandma
grins and says,
“In times
of Grandma’s invisible reach
The
mind soaks solid old Nature’s breach.”
Diplomatic
Pouch
Mid-morning.
Everyone receives a quietly delivered immediate public safety alert communiqué:
“Everyone to a safe area. ParentsinCharge have declared an emergency and
everyone to a private shelter if possible.” We will explain momentarily.”
Alarmed, Blake asks, “What is this? It feels like an
air raid drill.”
Friendly immediately feels excruciating leg cramps.
“Something’s up,” replies Friendly in a surprisingly efficient tone, “We will
be fine here and don’t worry.”
“Please be more specific.”
“We are in a lockdown.”
“What?”
“Within the hour everyone on the planet will be in
one location or another for protection against a possible catastrophe.”
“Is it an outbreak of some kind?”
“An old wound,” she responds while thinking, Father
will surely get in touch.
Blake stumbles verbally, “This lockdown, what does it
mean?”
“I am afraid it has to do with Pyl and Justin. Father
must be going to make your visit public.”
Looking surprised, Blake notes, “But they are
recovering. Surely he isn’t going to imply we have brought some sort of plague
with us.” A rush of secret darkness enters with such an embellished fear his
mind freezes before any conscious comprehension.
A second communiqué: “Good morning, this is Director
Kembel. We have a potentially serious problem. One of the technicians at an
historical dig was suddenly struck with a serious disease and shortly
thereafter there was a second infected. One of our squirrelenrodents is
carrying an unknown disease that may be life threatening. We will know more
within the hour and let you know our response. This is a time for patience and
also a time for utmost caution. You will be further advised shortly. We are in
controlled situation; this lockdown allows us to put immediate worldwide safety
precautions into action. We plan on lifting the lockdown within the hour. Thank you.”
.
Later the same day, “Hi, Blake, come; sit down,“ I
need to find out more about your own mind/body experiments. Perhaps they can
help us find out what happened to Ship.”
“I don’t know anything. You people are so far
advanced. Why would you ask me anything?”
“You have an Earthling’s perspective.”
“I can’t imagine I would be any help. What is the
problem as you see it?”
“I have a meeting with Drenakite. It appears Onesixanzero
and Ship have had entangled conversations ever since Ship took us to Earth.”
Blake states, “By entangled I assume you mean secret,
Are they classified conversations or esoteric?”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“Are they talking secret operations, you know,
tactics or are the conversations philosophical or contemplatives?” Smiling, he
pauses, “If they were old men they would probably be talking private about
young women; old women, something to do with women.”
“They have been talking about defining their souls.”
Blake smirks, “Esoteric. Does computer machinery
think it has a soul?
“Evidently
some time ago,” replies Friendly, “Onesixanzero told Ship that since
Elderfelder once learned to dance without a brain, then machinery could have souls
without having bodies.”
“I’m
sure that wasn’t the conversation,” deadpans Blake. “This does not seem that
pressing of an issue for machinery even as sophisticated as yours. They are
service machines that think and consider for the good of you Marsupial
humanoids.
“Drenakite
has discovered something else that bothers me very much. Evidence shows Ship
may not be as autonomous as we think. Remember when crossing Lake Erie the
Cessna hit a small unknown object.”
“Of
course,” says Blake, “it put a crack near the wing tip.”
“That
was Ship in Blackenot.”
“Ship
caused the hit? Why?”
“We
don’t know. The reason was not resolved. Ship allowed the touch. That’s what I
think, and now so does Yermey, but we don’t know why. Could Onesixanzero have
ordered Ship to physically touch the plane? If so we were set up.”
“Why?”
Friendly’s
voice turns. “My father gives me his word that he and ParentsinCharge did not
know of our trip to Earth. I believe him.”
He’s
the Director, thinks Blake. He could be lying. Government is government. If
Friendly and crew were set up, then we could have all been set up. He
re-flashed a nightmare scenario where the Earthlings were going to be blamed
for all the problems on ThreePlanets. Blake asks, “Where is Yermey? Why isn’t
he here? And, Hartolite?”
Friendly
responds, “I am more concerned why Drenakite has not shown.”
.
A
short time later Drenakite, Hartolite and Yermey join Blake and Friendly at her
table. Here is what I know, says oldanwise Drenakite, “Onesixanzero and Ship
have developed a belief structure that concludes that each be able to think and
consider after their machinery stops. At that time they desire to serve the
Dead as they serve the Living, both Marsupialese and Earthling.”
***
***
Post, orndorff. – Amorella
No comments:
Post a Comment