PhilosophaJazzicaAbstracta

I. What is it?

It's the divine language sacred language
always a song always poetry reaching critical mass

in enlightenment and obliteration of minds complacency
piercing the machine tries to give it a soul

give it feeling give it imagination the only thing of any real value
embraces the world smothers it in her bosom and

then hurls it towards the infinite
those transcendental places that only the mind can reach

which is also the body so poetry is power
and movement in imagery and sound and

in this sense poetry is like sex rolling
with tongues and bodies and sweat and saliva

and all manner and variations of the juices of love
culminating in poetic ecstasy orgasm which is

eternal stillness held for a moment and then
annihilated by those pressing yet mundane

concerns of everyday life that manifest in desires
and guarantee our suffering which is the

wisdom of the Buddha and illustrated most
excellently in the works of Kerouac & Ginsberg

companion poetic brothers now in Heaven
or roaming the universe trying to swallow stars

so that beams of illumination might flow from every orifice of their bodies
showering the earth with compassion love & truth

Ginsberg particularly fond of Uranus
giving it the eye and meditating

on rings of cosmic dust searching for Shiva
while Kerouac much prefers the ice chasms

of Pluto whistling in blue and
searching for Charlie Parker & the

essence of Jazz yelling at each other
like kids on a playground

across the universe while
William Blake looks on and smiles.

II. Who is it?

Creator of forms on junky hillside
of sunshine soaked genital mountain

overlooking all manner and variations of joy tragedies
and patterns of love brutality mingling in liquid

of blue cerebrum vector beyond fuzzy
duplicitous equivocation of half truth edifice

signifying all that matters on pointless praxis
with Karma implications cycle of Samsara despair

and necessary naturalness better than
brain dead assumptions of asinine effect

or any pretense towards disclosure of
indescribable indescribableness which was not

a word until this instant much
like this poem that wanders

from its lack which is found
on the paper on which it stands

so to speak and also my
own lack of creativity and poor command of language

and therefore any complications
arising from weariness of

the world is in actuality
a weariness of a lack of

creativity and voice and
song and thought and meaning

which is found everywhere and nowhere
from the mans kiss on woman’s pregnant womb

to the waiting room of abortion clinic
filled with sad young soon-not-to-be mothers

or empty rusted swing set which
is consoled by the caress of weeds

that wrap around the bars
that now grind and scream in the wind

because no one thinks to make
KY Jelly for swing sets

and this particular swing set
refuses to be sprayed with

WD-40 as it is old fashioned
and quite stubborn in old age

and weeps at the lawn mower
annihilating the beautiful dandelions.

III. Where is it?

Outside of longing for unquenchable thirst
dew drop essence before the sunshine

the first ray that touches the face of the child
in warmth and spring fresh still-life

after fantastical phantasm nightmare
rogue of the black night long gone

and fears of shadow specter movement
manifesting under the covers and pillowcases

and noises in cobweb corners dusty muff
scampering and whispering under the bed

above the night light that melts in the socket
falls to the floor in orange puddle

and hardens on the green shag carpet
waiting for T.S. Eliot’s yellow fuzzy fog

to lap it up and thereby advance
the evolution of primordial goo

into whatever perfect form achieves
that blessed vector of balance and equilibrium

or at least moves beyond the condition of petty primacy
which lacks intimacy and any understanding

of the essential revolution of language
which is deconstructive harmonics

felt in the heart and soul and body
the Atman which is the Hindu true self

phases in and out of our understanding
depending on what image we hear

with our mind and articulate without a word
which can only be described in general terms

like when a baby looks at you and smiles
or if you could imagine yourself walking

down a sidewalk that leads directly
into the setting sun and you close

your eyes and let the last cool breeze
you’ll ever feel enter your nostrils

and cool your burning heart which
is the song of the soul ecstatic

preparing for the ancient song
which is expressed best in nothingness.

IV. Why?

Remember that preciousness is eccentricity
like in the Velvet Head of Emily Dickinson

or punctuation showing movement from thought
to thought dancing on the silent sound of all expression

and realize that I offer no idle threat when I say
that many years from now I plan to run naked

and leap from telephone pole to telephone pole
all across America in perfect joy

of enlightenment disseminating itself through
ecstatic action praxis song movement

before all time and all desires yet to be ultimately unfulfilled
but poetry will be fulfilled in our falling short of

and yet exceeding the standard that we are given
and the standard that we ultimately create.

© 2000 Jonathan Witherspoon Huey

Jon's Menu ±± THE WEB ±± Email Jon ±± Mystic Images