Spring 2024 - Recrudescence

“Little Fluff”

flexuously wriggling magnet of Reality was to get encompassed by it, navigate with it, go with it to anywhere, and connect with that to everything on earth.

And I did.

I stayed out. I stayed on the road. I did because I could. I lived poor in rooms, just fine in slums, cushy in scungy hostels, did salaried stretches at classy residences, minding the adorable darlings, dogs and cats, once even a snake, and some beloved rats. I got jobs young, worked easily, haggled and bartered, less of a Jew than a real smarty-pants who knew how to scrimp and save to launch into that life of wandering I craved. Vagabondage was a longing to go, mind and heart open to a mixed world of gore and glory, of chaos, order, and contradictions. I roamed the planet, went anywhere, did it on the cheap, no posh, and no design, I had no plan, not even seeking, it was just the going, and no agenda. Alright, I did, I do have a failure. But it’s on end-play now. So these words are my Vale to that. I think I got the drive in me wrong. In brain terms a bimbo, I got seduced by the word, the belief that God was it. But God’s not a word! Nor its authoritarian hammer of fact. I ran too far up the skiddy slopes of the word’s Nimrod babble when I should have stayed out with the ineffable, or that other movement in me of music, or maybe with my familial skill at visual art. If by now a vanishing part of my logic stands in shame at what I failed to give back of the world’s investment in me, there’s also that other, a radical self who only ever loves the stuff given. Take existence itself. The sheer fact of it. This marvel from nowhere! Like, where did it come from? Just the one atom? That first cell! And why? It still feels like a miracle from nowhere, that instead of nothing, there is life! This is the mind-blow, that there is a life for the body, a life for the soul, a life on route through even this world of bliss and grunge.

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