"THE SKY IS OPEN, BY THAT WAY I WILL GO..." (thinking Ovid, James Joyce)
when the sky is the only highway left
It is time to shed. LOVE LETTERS SAVED AS AMULETS stand between us and the Abyss..
things from humans that at once confirm we matter and twice veil the Allness- ... SAW A TENNESSEE WILLIAMS PLAY," ONE ARM" ... adding a layer to the layers and layers that peel and saturate psychic thoughts... in it, an adonis innocent boxer loses arm, broken in spirit and cash, believes he lost his worth, subjects himself to dangers of total nihilism in new hustler career, loathing his shame, tho maimed arm magnifies his beauti 'like antiquiti'. He passes through lives of many feeling 'nothing'. Story unfolds in prison cell, hundreds of letters come in from the johns of his wanderings. He finds he meant a great deal to they.mmmm...like many of us were a bit touched. As amends to all he abandoned, he writes left handed laboriously remembers all in detail, carries his 800 letters and replies as lone witness to the Chair where he is MADE free ...to the realm of silence...in death he stops speaking the mantras of limited identity. Judgements about why's with in ourselves and upon others can be a form of murder, killing that which is meant to flower. There's a fine line between acceptance, and being brave with out the pendant handicaps of platitudes. SEE THE MEDICINE. Find alignment, and look forward... death or love? we (All One Arm's) must die in love...and know the difference between being an artist transmitter and the great artificer's transmutations. One arm's create prisons while in a paradise body..If we were perfect, we would not be here.... I am reminded me of my Prisoner paintings and drawings where she is laying down by a stream but missing a leg (or two!) it looks like one is bent, but was, in part, about being trapped in fantasy.