Wisdom of Salmon
Patients of Jab
Sayin’ something about a queen
There were peasants singin’ and drummers drumming
And the archer split the tree
DPDrydock 1905: Fin spine and exoskeleton; magic fish story, three parts
After the gold rush there wasn’t much happening. Nothing where the naked eye could see it anyway- and if you were out there naked where you could see it- you were bound to get in trouble. This one is easy because there only three characters: the fisherman, his wife, and of course… the fish. You can understand how our Dart functions if you know the story. The fisherman returned to their hovel with nothing. Wailed the fishwife- you caught nothing. I caught a fish said he. And the fish told me he was not really a fish… but an enchanted prince. So- said the fisherman- I let him go. Would you eat a talking fish?
The important part is this: why did you ask nothing in return for letting the fish go. That’s what the fishwife wanted to know- because she decided that granting a wish was naturally incumbent on the part of a magic fish. I don’t know why she swallowed the lie. Perhaps she’ll die. So the fisherman returned and asked for a cottage and when he got back- the cottage was there. The story continues- and just like before… he kept going back and asking for more. Until they lived in a huge castle and the wife wanted the fish to make the fisherman king. The fisherman did not want to be king, so the wife asked the fisherman to ask the fish to make her king instead.
With a full moon in my eyes
I was hopin’ for replacement
When the sun burst through the sky
The Dart has a transformative outer hull 600 feet long. She has a beam of 40 feet which is her pressure hull (the part we live in) and the rest is a black goo I call blubber. Flubber, the kids call it- (or Oobleck). We manufacture it on board and lose a lot of it to heat and such. It can be hard as marble or powdery like pollen but it does not stick to the skin. Dart will not allow her inner hull to get too close to the pressure hull, but I’m guessing that at times it has only been a millimeter thick. Be careful how you handle her where the skin is thin She becomes a 40 foot thick 600 foot long glowing disk that sits vertical in the water. Eyes (lights) like a crocodile.
She can skintch herself into a 600 x 50 x 50 shape if she has to… and usually sends out spines that look like masts or poles (on land). Now if you look through that open hatch above your head it will look like a hall of mirrors. Don’t do it now. You’ll puke. But you can see which way she is going- fore and aft. Remember the Dart is just as shy as we are- with good reason. She is dangerous when armed and took many innocent lives when she was a panzer cub. And she still dangerous is if you let her be. Wait a minute. What happened to the fisherman? Henry looked blankly at the new crew. Well his wife never got to be king eh. And they live at the crush zone hovel way.
To this very day.
In the yellow haze of the sun
There were children crying and colors flying
All around the chosen ones
====
My Black Phages
The Dude Abrades
Rollin’ high and mighty traps
Pounced with fire on flaming roads
Using ideas as my maps
“We’ll meet on edges, soon,” said I
Proud ’neath heated brow
DPD 1885: Schlosshotel Kronberg; a Roma above the kitchen zinc
An aubade is a morning love song about lovers separating at dawn… accompanying or evoking daybreak. Not like Reveille (you maggots). Pandora understood the technology that ran the Dart… in a rudimentary way. She was looking at Henry’s screen and seeing fuzzy blobby things when she was supposed to be seeing the ground.
Yes she controlled speed and direction- but what does that mean… in a time machine. We are here because (says Henry): we’re here because above the battle is our own little cell. Phages, are harmless to human cells as they do not recognize them as (there)… prey. Look down into the tranches. Don’t tilt the cyclic. Unless you want to go that way. Notice the dog.
Yeah. The only free floating bitch in the picture.
From phony jealousy
To memorizing politics
Of ancient history
Flung down by corpse evangelists
Unthought of, though, somehow
Oh say you can see (oh please do) how ideas can get you. Henry turned grim- for the moment- but not in a threatening way. Henry being grim and threatening did not scare anyone- except Chaska and Thabo… and they scared everybody. Don’t know why the Dart will only fly (through time that is) for me. But she speaks in Punta (she says) with the voice of Rebekah.
Henry insists it is the voice of the Indian pony- a Shoshone woman with no name. Thabo says she is a real old woman. Chaska suggests she is a ghost. GmbH SS Dart is real enough lads- to pop your skull if you fuck (don’t look) up. So in behooves (like a horse) our asses to realize your screen is not entertainment. Because wir here.
Shoal! ‘Ware shoal!
None in the bucket got away.
Quite clear, no doubt, somehow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I’m younger than that now
-+-
Let Artifacts Lie
They will tell the spider
The rifle grooves curling with flakes of rust.
DPD 1885: Says a large temple built there; dedicated to the demons, whose prince is Radogost. (His statue is made of gold, his baldachin bedecked with purple).
Let me tell you about the infamous Coffey Bros. motorcycle gang. Would prefer not to… let you do that… just now. Everyone on board felt banging on the hull and Pandora needed a pilot. That is the point continued Henry. Infamous because nobody ever heard of us- and nobody ever will. Punta relaxed the collective as the Dart was starting to be there she moved the cyclic toward a hole in the cloud deck below.
Careful. It’s not what you think it is. We are on the apogee and I believe it is 801 AD down there. We may meet St. Cuthbert or something like that. More likely we will expose ourselves to a Roman legion on the march. Like a bank shot off Gettysburg. Click.
Keep a tight grip on the collective listen to the engine. Watch the donut not the whole. Little angels wrote it. Keep the cyclic as neutral as possible- until it cycles like your heart beet. Beat. No. Like the pump gushy thing the pissed-off Roman mercs will rip from your chest for dangling our doodle-dee over their heads like it was an outhouse hole. You wanted to stop the war. Now your heart is an angry vegetable.
Wanted to see the future. Chances are good a vegetable will respond to you. Like a good stalking horse- our Dart will always find the eye of the herd. Now crab inside this layer and land. At least four clicks. There. Set her down. Good. Go on. You’re doing good work. This is on the continent. Heart of Europe. See what the legions are up to now. We must charge. What are your orders. Captain.
Is this Antietam. Whish 57 varieties
darkest, warmest corner of it.
The trigger and the range-finder, they too will be rusty.
Henry got to his office in Baton Rouge and quickly tired of the French there. They made a game of speaking their native language as a priority, trusting that newcomers or those alien to the region would be left at a disadvantage. He was indeed a fluent communicator in French as well as several other languages, but loved game playing, so it was far from him to be a spoiler.
He spent the first several months on duty dramatizing his misunderstanding of what was being verbalized to and around him. He enjoyed the exaggerated frustrations he pretended to have while they ridiculed and tried to sabotage what he was doing there. Their arrogance faded when realizing that it was they who had been played.
Part of mercenary affairs is to artfully work for the highest bidder which made Henry a true Michelangelo. He sculpted for the government while painting for the opportunists. So, in 1850, while awaiting a boatload of Hawken rifles to purchase in St. Louis, he found himself also to be the liaison for courting Southern Man.
Southern Man exhausted himself in his state of tantrum regarding his pending loss of a slave. While sorting through the economic unrest, Uncle Sam used Henry to pacify Southern Man until… he felt as though he had reasonable national attention. Henry… schmoozed his way back and forth through Louisiana and Mississippi… needed his own slave in order to ice some credibility. My little cupcake.
Oh, I’ll think of something. Henry won Tom, spent the night as a guest, after departing in the early morning with the shackled man following attached to his horse on another. Indian pony, Henry and Thabo heard them all being played like fiddles. Years and years later, well after her young man never returned from the Civil War, Luanne became somewhat famous in the south for haunting the most significant haunted homes in the south.
Although Henry had no occasion to visit the area again, many years later he had heard many stories of the hauntings and the violin playing could still be heard until
that very day.
Forefingers and thumbs will point casually toward it.
It will be spoken among half-forgotten, whished-to-be-forgotten things.
@$#$@
The Troubles
Wester Downesetting III
Among the apple trees,
Where the gay winds do most desire
To run in companies.
DPD: Perigee 1916; Erin go braless, republic still born anyway.
Tom O’Hawkpipe was Irish- that’s for sure- and he caught the prairie madness the same way Henry did. Chaska the Yanktonai Sioux was born with it of course. He was the eldest son of Dancing Bear who studied law at Cambridge or Harvard or someplace like that. If he was a white man once, Dancing Bear was baked brown as a bean and was known through all the Dakotas as the wisest of the surviving old people anywhere.
Henry was dark cherry red under his clothes which were rarely shed on the plains because of wind, insects and such. Tom was mad as a bedlam hare and wore a Boss of the Plains Stetson like Henry. Species recognition. Each lifted his hat. Not a beautiful friendship.
Thabo the buffalo soldier explained it this way. Tom O’Hawkpipe was nothing but a grizzly bear. He had great long hair like a grizzly bear. He had great long touches like a grizzly bear. He had big blue eyes like a grizzly. He come huffing and blowing like a grizzly bear. He come wobbling and squabbling like a grizzly bear. Dot bear goanna gitcha now: grizzly bear.
Wester Downesetting however was a Yankee officer of English import. Third name of Yorkist and Lancaster patrimony said he. Reminded Henry of a big fat purse that got heavier and jingled clinker with every waddle. The big mick hornpipe was onto his trail too- old Fat Purse three. Henry did not want to harvest fp3 yet. He shit gold sovereigns.
Hey. Which way is Ireland. Hey. Come starboard to one three zero. Step on it. Captain.
The young leaves as they pass,
My love goes slowly, bending to
Her shadow on the grass.
Remember that coercion is the fine art of getting something to do what it does not want to do- men, mules, mudslides- it does not matter. Spirit mumbles Chaska. Sand and gravity grunt Thabo. But Tom was no Scotsman Sandy. Nope. His real name was probably Patrick like the grey officers of the Cleburne variety.
He was last seen advancing on foot toward the Union line with his sword raised, after his horse was shot out from under him. When Confederates found his body, he had been picked clean of any valuable items, including his sword, boots, and pocket watch. These are the items Henry sold during the war to those who could pay. Chaska say: easy way to eliminate enemy- make friend.
Punt (the cunt) was more direct that way: time gentlemen. This time tomorrow we will be over Flanders to stop a war. That is all. Pandora slip closed the control pod and Henry grinned with pride. She aren’t no battle axe boys. She is a work of art. Thabo could hear the bottomless thuds already. Chaska could smell the brimstone… devil you say. Away from the rusty tramp freighter.
Me and wooly stay by the far-see screen. You go ahead and don’t come back dead. Not me. Can’t fly the goddam thing but eye can still sea? Shit mumbled one of the lubbers wandering away down the dock. No wonder he gets thrown out of bars. Crashes cars. Now he only eats guitars.
This (right now) is the same peasant uprising that happens in 1848… and in 1649… and in 841 with Louis the German. And the Chen Sheng in China a thousand years before that. Like snowflakes- all different. All the same. Rebellions if you lose. Wars if you win. You can roll your eyes along the edge as the coin begins to spin.
Faster until you crash, burn and explode. Rode. Chaska was in touch with the Zedong boys who understood transformation just fine. When most of the people wake up and say- fuck- anything is better than this. Plenty O’Porks gonna lose their hams. Action jams. Battlestations kids. Me(e/a)t and greet. Schatzenputz Gruppe expects everyone to howdy their duty. Love the way you stand.
Sister Carrie ~ Your Brand
Over the laughing land,
My love goes lightly, holding up
Her dress with dainty hand.
oO0Oo
Torch of Intent
Deep Blue Precedent
To wear the color of the greys and join the fight again
DPD: waxing Buck Moon 1885; Nightspeed, where any Yankee stands
When the HSS (Hessian Steam Ship) Chameleon was still a sportsman’s yacht and a prize of war, Henry thought it was a good idea to electrify the ship- for light, to drive winches, etc. so they obtained a design for a generator. It was actually a transformer because it supposedly generated no power- merely transformed existing energy into a form that you could use. Whatever.
It made the lights work and the electric motors ran up the sheets (sails) faster than any human. This machine (the generator) also detected things that nobody (even Chaska the crazy Indian) could even imagine. Must be another form of energy, no? No. Not energy. Mass… whatever that is.
The meaning of mass and its role in life was not important to Henry at the time. Chaska and Thabo (the black magician) insisted on raiding commerce- even though the war was over. They had all participated in Sherman’s Atlanta campaign and it proved to be quite profitable. Henry loved the woods. Thabo loved the rivers, and Chaska loved the plains.
So naturally the Buoys spent most of their time at sea- a place they all hated. But the Chameleon was providing too much fun and profit. The brits call a flashlight a torch, you know- but back during the war nobody had any idea what a flashlight was. Mass is important for speed and proximity. Just so you know.
To plant the seeds of justice in our bones
Proximity fuses were a sideline for a time, as were traveling torpedoes (not mines). In those days the baby eggheads at Camp Schatzenputz were not literate yet. As soon as they were, they began chirping about light amplification by stimulated emission of radiation. It was all incompressible to Henry- who was only a gunsmith by trade and a hunter by profession.
He could be a mechanic if he had to- and could act like a gentleman if need be. The old sailors aboard the Chameleon laughed at the Buoys vomiting at the rail and falling down on deck- until Henry said he would shoot them. Of course Henry would not shoot them- but they stopped laughing anyway.
Henry saw the little light shine on a rattlesnake once… but he did not mention it to the baby eggheads. They were uncomfortable with allegory. Henry needed Chaska to translate… and Thabo to insure compliance. It is any wonder the unemployed generals cooked up insurance gigs aplenty that run like Newton’s clock to this very day. They still need a translator and an enforcer too.
Pyramid hierarchy is as old as the stone machines in Egypt… and you know what they say about De River there. Henry had a Nighthawk™ made for himself and gave six more away. You can only guess about their whereabouts today. It’s a safe bet that a psychopath holds at least one- probably two. Ask that sweet thing. She is Miss Information.
What does that mean to you
To New Orleans well that’s just fine alright
‘Cause there’s fighting there and the company needs men
All I said, all I said, slip us a rope and sail on round the bend
###
Forbidden Fruit
The fool of Man
grope @ hope you can
Let me say in my defense
That all I did wherever I went
Was to talk a lot of common sense
DPD: 1905- River of Discontent; abeam Shanksville PA.
where quality has a quantity all its own
The Industrial Age thought it performed the alchemists’ trick on labor, turning manpower into horse power engines. The ability to understand complex and specialized tasks made humans different from horses, and humans were valuable as well even though the horse seemed stronger and more obedient.
The development of new-energy-powered (such as the steam engine) machines further cheapened the value of human muscle. Likewise, the development of the electric computer appeared to cheapen the value of the human brain. Mass production cheapened the very idea of value. Like a puppet coming to life, money became the value it was supposed to represent.
Often technology defines the times. How many people in the Bronze Age know how bronze was made. Did people in the Stone Age know how stones were made. Events and people can define the times as well. The Year of Our Lord, the Elizabethan Era, or when the Bear went Over the Mountain.
Likewise, not many at the time knew the Lord, Elizabeth or the Bear personally, nor do historians in retrospect. These are the days of the high-temperature superconductor, with 300 horsepower electric motors that weigh a kilogram, supercomputers the size of a pin and other magical devices.
These are The Rights Of Man
Kick off religion and monarchy”
It was written there in Tom Paine’s plan
The Schatzenputz group had secrets that surpass the power of gadgets in what was once called the future. Biplanes, for example. No one really liked Henry except his two old friends- and even they were not sure at times. Henry is awfully smug- they would say- and mad as a hatter. That was Henry’s secret.
Henry insisted on not interfering with the past or future because Henry had already done so. He would find his mark. Then he would say: mark- I believe in you. Then Henry wrote them a check. He wrote one to Henry J. Heinz after the war in 1867… and to Thaddeus Lowe before the war… to Pemberton the chemist in Atlanta…Otto Leventhal and young Carl Benz.
Back in the old country there were others- winners and losers alike. They did not like Henry either- but they remembered him. Henry asked them for favors they could not refuse. There was one mad hatter in particular who actually liked Henry. A businessman. He learned the hat trade from his father. After his father’s death he moved to St. Louis, Missouri, and worked for a brick manufacturer.
When the factory and business were ruined by floods, he headed west to Colorado to find his fortune in gold. That’s where he met Henry who saw his hat making skills proved useful as he used the felting process to make a superior, waterproof tent material for prospectors to use.
Realizing that his fortune was not to be made panning gold, he moved to Philadelphia in 1865 and returned to his hat making roots. Nicola Tesla ended up despising Henry but…
J.B. Stetson always had him covered.
Nobody laughs and nobody cries
Where he’s gone or how he fares
Nobody knows and nobody cares
~&@$~
First Direct Visualization
Thru Black Mirror
1649 Saint George’s Hill
History in the making
You’ll read what they say life is all about
They say it’s there for the taking
DPD: ibid. etc. et. al. (a dress for your gps)
Henry told the story this way: me and Schurz was having angry words at each other. It was on Cemetery Hill as the boys were rolling out guns along the Baltimore Pike. I had passed through the lines more times that day than a fat crow on a hausfrau’s clean linen line and I was not too happy about it. We could still hear each other if we shouted.
Schurz- says I; now is your time to be a goddam General. Hessen says he: now is your time to be a goddam soldier. You know what. Cause is right. Was that a QUESTION. Screaming words nobody could hear? Nharr-whuck said the bullet making a statement. Fucking PERIOD. Sent a message… huh.
It was Read feather. I thought him one of Jubal’s Louisiana assassins and he was trying to hit me. He never missed. Could shoot much better than I could. But we did not like each other- and that’s for goddam sure. Got lucky enough to cut his head once, and he never forgot it. I killed him many times… during the war and since then. The ultimate sore loser.
But like zombies- they never die. Jesus too I suppose if you want to look at it that way. Saint Hubert did by god. And there he was again handling the big brass guns glowing with holy fire as men rammed them and stuffed them had shot them horses and wheels and splinters blew apart. Nothing is forgotten. Nobody dies.
Later I realized- he was aiming for Carl. In the splatter I said to Hubert leaving the hill for the hotel. In the old deutsch of course and Elizabeth Thorn (knew her from home) understood every word they thought they were saying to each other in secret. Like the Odd Fellows with their signs and symbols and such. Get to the fucking point Henry.
Oh yeah. Truth. That old thing. Just like Chancellorsville I said because that was the first time I saw Hubert in action. Point was: you know what is right. You know who your people are. They are not the same thing. Something is out of sync.
With my head in the sand
I just want to see people giving
I want to believe in my fellow man
Yes, I want to believe
Cause. People. Yourself. Think about it. I did says Punts. And stop calling me Punta. Shut up. That’s the point. Speed. Distance. Direction. Cause instruments give you data says Chaska. Data don’t mean a thing if you can’t play your instrument says Thabo. You know what I say. Meanwhile the time machine reached the 1600s on Earth this last time around and everybody got to see King Charly lose his head.
Up close and personal. CSS Tallassee carried a crew of 120 men and Dart is at least four times her size. Hard to tell how many young dipsy doodles are now crawling around in his ship- but Henry (the pilot) gave them a vision they could not refuse.
God curse you pilot they thought. The masts would pop out of the huge thermos bottle that sweated a shiny waxy substance making it reflect light. Lozenge-shaped craft. A pill (if you will). Capsules. Like we swallow every day and it’s no big deal is it. All I could think about then was the rifles and scopes and gold watches buried in a coffin under a name only Elizabeth knew about.
Who is Elizabeth? Queen of fucking England you dunce. Keep the ball in your hand and feel the collective and go where the fuck I tell you. Now stay idle during the demonstration. After the masts popped (over 100′) up they extended web like fingers forming junk-rigged sails.
All black for now- but the sails turned translucent and then white (so not to arouse) and blew. Out with the wind. Rails and decks grew out of the hull with furniture and lines. Folks back in Copper Harbor said she looked like a Civil War ironclad at sunset. Even though they knew she was just a rusty old freighter.
They told tourists it was owned by three old drunks who had been smuggling up and down the lakes since anybody could remember. Gangsters they said- and everybody was afraid of them. That’s what they told tourists anyway because it made a good story.
And everybody knows: stories don’t have to be true to tell the truth. How about a shot of Jägermeister says Punts. That bullshit was right off the label. Pandora chalked up- to run the table…
In ground-effect. Hover.
I would lose faith I never could recover
…
Innocence to toast.
Raise your glass.
I thought your post-hangin’ days were through
Sunk-in eyes and full of sighs
Tell no lies
You get wise
DPD: 20Rose Moon; Copper Harbor, 10mm above Pancake Lake
It is more difficult to go into the past than it is to go into the future explained Henry. We going there anyway added Thabo. Chaska of course saw feather than that. What good is a time machine that does not bring justice to my ancestors and make all good people of Sichuan normal. You know how the rest of that goes.
The time machine looked like a giant thermos bottle except it was flat black- as in reflected no light at all- so it rather looked like a hole cut in the tree line. Lookout Mountain. Here it comes. Tried to reach beyond the emptiness. Kaput. Pandora claims to be a Rebekah. Jew do the same thing huh huffed Punta like she is the only girl in the thermos bottle.
Building up steam remember. Buoys when we got that engine during the war. Iron Mountain. Sherman was going to shoot it damn full. Honk. Kong provincials noted Chaska the Indian wondering if Henry had started the infernal machine. No. She is not evil our Dart.
CSS Tallahassee was only her seedling ship- our Dart dwarfs her now in size and power. But I can still hear her. In your head right says black Thabo not doubting Henry at all. None of these babies know what the fuck we talking about let alone the motherfucking voices in your head. The thermos bottle hole in the tree line made noise like a million industrious happy bees.
Sling shot around the Portal: 1863
You say how and I’ll say when
Come and meet me down the street
Take a seat
It’s my treat
Dart got smaller and smaller until about the size of a semi-colon; pines whispered a wind, gusts came out of the lodge at Pancake Lake to watch the Dart stop being there. Smelled like beeswax and it was none of yours etc.. Your junk ain’t that good honey said Henry to his student pilot dreading another lesson in Jenny… but not today.
Today Henry was preparing to launch- slingshot style- gravity assist. Henry would not say how far- but aimed as close to the birth of Christ as they could or until it got too hot. Dart spoke in Henry’s head with Pandora’s voice… but her thoughts were just like Shoshone woman- the Indian pony. Henry wished he had the controls. But not today.
Henry had selected dozens of horses since with her bridle- Dalí Lama style. You talk about that machine like it is human they would say. Please. Do not debase our Dart by calling her human. But she’s as human as you are. You should only treat her as such. Henry was getting orders from the Captain now: I am a Rebekah.
I believe in the Fatherhood of God, the brotherhood of man and the sisterhood of women. I believe in the watch-words of our Order – Friendship, Love, and Truth. Goddammit Punta. Stop talking until we get out of these mountains. Waves. Shit. For in God’s eyes we are all brothers and sisters. I am a Rebekah! There you are. Climb my sweet angel. Climb.
Like the homesick angel you are singing to me. Easy now. Not too hot. Roll with it baby. Yank ye to the side. Slip me down into that valley of milk and money.
Sweet. Darling.
And felt that old familiar pain
And as I turned to make my way back home
The snow turned into rain
!@#
Religion and Morality
Reason & Wrights
(name one)
To begin with, take warning, I am surely far different from what you suppose;
Do you suppose you will find in me your ideal?
DPD: 1899; Colorado spring speak no word/ go boing boing instead.
The smallest decision one makes in the most unimportant instant sticks to one heel for a lifetime. That’s what they said in Rome- over a long time ago. Then over the tube come the words of Walt Whitman from (July 4) 1863:
There were three regiments of infantry, (I suppose the ones doing patrol duty here,) two or three societies of Odd Fellows, a lot of children in barouches, and a squad of policemen. (A useless imposition upon the soldiers—they have work enough on their backs without piling the like of this.) As I went down the Avenue, saw a big flaring placard on the bulletin board of a newspaper office, announcing “Glorious Victory for the Union Army!”
Daisy had quite an attitude about her as she entered the ballroom and looked around at the available gentlemen in the room. The southern man was prevalent. The haughty and self-important atmosphere the men exhaled into the room nearly choked her. She wondered why she had come but forced herself to work hard at establishing a countenance of friendly interest in those around her, but only from a distance.
She was able to discourage most from approaching her to ask for her dance card by looking away as each summoned the nerve to walk, or merely shuffle, in her direction. Henry said with straight and sober expression. Is your invitation still open for… dinner, ma’am? If so, I’d be honored to accept it.
DPD: 1800; Washington himself ran out of breath in 1799, still giving blood
Do you think the friendship of me would be unalloy’d satisfaction?
Do you think I am trusty and faithful?
Henry was headed for Atlanta and the morning train to Baton Rouge. California was headed for statehood, free statehood, other territories were being added and shuffling their senses, and Mississippi, owned by wealthy slave owners, saw the clouds gathering over a serious interference in their economic holdings.
They were an army of their own and no matter how these states and regions felt about the use of slaves, Mississippi saw the trade in them as crucial. They felt about to be encroached. But not without bloodshed, which was Henry’s profession. But for now, he had an office waiting for him… within a few hours ride to where he’d need to be in Ole Miss. He was ready for anything.
The father of waters now rolled unsexed to the sea as well… or something like that. Henry was singularly vexed trying to get Gordon’s killers back to Georgia where they belonged. Lee’s retreat turned out better than the battle. Good luck- bad luck- who knows. To say it means divine favor is a trap for fools, philosophers and empires alike.
Back to the Hamptons and such (meanwhile the Washington bells are ringing their sundown peals for Fourth of July, and the usual fusilades of boys’ pistols, crackers, and guns). Racism would be the babble of future generations… made as much sense as measuring skulls. To Henry… race meant arriving ahead of the next conveyance. Convenience.
Whatever.
Do you suppose yourself advancing on real ground toward a real heroic man?
Have you no thought, O dreamer, that it may be all maya, illusion?
!!?!!
Home alright
Master Specimen
And then realized it was still dark outside
It was a light coming down from the sky
I don’t know who or why
DPD: 1842n retro; Dutch coast, Harrisburg PA
Henry was only twelve years old. Never been caught in a crowd before the day in Bremen when he was a young student bound for forestry school in Glasgow. No directional control. The yowling townies were sweeping him away from the port. Master Henry heard the Glasgow man call his name. Here is your trunk Master Henry.
You must not be afraid of the livestock. They human as you are. You must treat them as such. You know the story about the musicians. They succeed in tricking and scaring off a band of robbers, capturing their spoils, and moving into their house. Aye ye’ll love Scotland lad… and how we scare for trees.
Battle of Gettysburg is a set-piece opera, so it should be no surprise that strangers come to see the original. There is where Henry met Daisy again at age 33. For Henry the war was only a sideshow- where he could sell expensive gadgets to rich clients- gadgets that would make Tiffany Co. wet their pants. Daisy was different.
She had read Marx as well- and to her the Soviet Republic of Georgia was real as Brigadoon. Gordon’s boys were real enough. Henry was friends with Jubal Early from the days before the war. Maybe they were destined to be enemies. Henry loved Jubal and Daisy all the same. They were good. Professional. They did good things for an evil cause.
Town Musicians Horseshoes
Those saucer shaped lights put people uptight
Leave blue green footprints that glow in the dark
I hope they get home alright
DP: Mayday. UAV unmanned. Visitors observers. We need help now
Everybody say they do good things, but Henry seen enough poop piles doing evil things for a good cause. Effect or affect? An act: when you see poops inflicting suffering- with your own eyes- right in front of you- just for shits and giggles… I KNOW. Punta interrupted. So we have an obligation to intervene.
No. We don’t. Says Chaska- an Indian who had never seen India. Can’t stand ourselves says Thabo the Zulu African who was born on the Mississippi delta. Cause haunt the same as reason. Yes it do. And a lost cause is the only one worth fighting for. Did the battle start on July 1? No. It began when Thoth made writing. Back in Egypt. Long ago.
Now an Indian, a European, a negro… and an American: loose in time- wherever they go. The armies learned to expand and contract- to concentrate and scatter. But only at ground-level as far as the eye could see. Attract, attack, parry and riposte. Circle, entrap… break out- the same dance microorganisms do under the microscope… or stars over a telescope. You see- it does not matter. No- corrected Chaska. It is not matter. Spirit. Plasma countered Henry.
Time gentlemen said Punta repeating a speech she learned in an Irish pub. Have ye no homes to go to. Are ye pathetic or peripatetic. Love and hate are psychosomatic. Gettysburg battle is a universal schematic. I can see by your frustration- a neurotic sublimation. All I want to do is have some fun.
It began on this day.
Won’t you please take me along
I won’t do anything wrong
Hey, Mr. Spaceman
Won’t you please take me along for a ride
~!~!~
waldopaper 
leave a comment