an event horizon ~ walking on water

Thank you for reading my dearest Ladies. However... Come on Jess, I need your shaman's eye here, there's a couple of bumps that I need help with. K? ~A Don’t let your victories go to your head, or your failures go to your heart.

How could war not affect us? It's a huge fallacy that humans can return from its effects intact, the same person. All experiences changes us. The utter senselessness & devastation, ravaging the human spirit. My God, we're human after all! ~A p.s. I had a very unique moment...watching the Sarajevo, live, as it were. It's in this poem. I thought I posted it long time ago. It might need some revisions. Written in 2006. Pain Is An Honest Truth Pain is an honest truth, like scrawny sepia branches straight out of a Tim Burton scene, it stretches deep into my dreams and tugs and tugs at me until it pulls me out, shakes me by my shoulders at 2:00 in the morning, I am time-worn in my 60th year, so I walk downstairs make a pot of coffee enough for four cups, having noticed once again, I only have to make my bed on the side I sleep on I still wonder sometimes if my bed is cold and lonely on the other side but I have an opening line for this poem now and my coffee is hot, I've always known how to brew a good pot of coffee, in this, I am much like the bone rattlers, scattering fragments and shards upon the red clay earth to divine a fortune that is as of yet, unseen and like all humble beginnings silently melts in the crucible of some unknown dreamer this early in the morning I can only think of barely-remembered heroes, unlikely saviours such as the one Provost speaks of, how a guy named Arkhipov saved the world did Vasily awaken that fateful morning with a pallor of dread, of some unsung, unheralded pain and did he even have a nickname on that submarine given to him by a parent, lover or friend? Truth is, I haven't stopped thinking about Arkhipov, how one person can hold the fate of the entire world in a moment of making the right decision. how blind justice really is. How easily it could have been the wrong one. and I think about Chaney, in all his rich white upper crust Republican bravado he's looking forward to being a grandfather you know; his lesbian daughter and her partner of 15 years are expecting. I try not to make distinctions about many things, using the L-world as an adjective in front of daughter is a little uncomfortable, and I'm quite certain he doesn't use it privately though the world news does. though the ironic humor of family ties breaking through the constraints of a perfect and self-righteous Christian world doesn't escape me even at 3:00 in the morning. though we live in a country that allows unmitigated circumstances to continue in lands where blood and sand meet anonymous families twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. here the argument about Creationism versus Darwinism couldn't be more absurd in these matters of allotted time in a place where time is counted in bodies flown home in flag-draped pine boxes and angry, screaming men and women filled with horror and weeping eyes, eyes that always seem to usher in memories of one tawny, nearly dead lion in a Sarajevo zoo or the unfathomable children's eyes of Mengele's experiments, innocent victims of crucifixions that will never be in anyone's bible. how DO we make the right decision based on lies? clueless, we fly by the seat of our pants along with the pigs of our jesting inconsequential selves. my bare feet are getting cold on these hardwood floors, and my right shoulder aches more and more as I type these words on my laptop, smiling at Larry's new found prevailing interest in biology, "Professor Epston" far removed from Southern Korea, teacher of English, now of a gated community in California, singer, songwriter, sitar and guitar player, poet, mystic and friend. I'd like to introduce Provost to Epston, let them talk about methane-eating bacteria. I'll just watch and listen. I wonder if this time a Poet Saves The World, I wonder if one of us could teach the world the word: Namaste "I honour that place in you where the whole Universe resides, And when I am in that place in me and you are in that place in you, There is only one of us." I wonder if I am still dreaming. p.p.s. My friend Larry passed away suddenly from a staph infection in his knee. Long story that is.. Don’t let your victories go to your head, or your failures go to your heart.

That beast, the royal lion so far away from his kingdom, nearly starved to death; the zoo caught between two sides... If anyone looked into his eyes... into the stolen eyes of childhood...in Mendele's experiments...really seeing.... If we could really allow all THAT to enter and stay in our consciousness. And truly NEVER forget. Your seeing the poet for who he was (...and wanted to be) IS a life-altering experience. Truth seldom comes in a pretty X-mas package. Love to you and yours, Theodore. Anna Don’t let your victories go to your head, or your failures go to your heart.