Archive for the 'Variations In B-Flat' Category

The Morning After

get no

We Are Accomplished

It Is Accomplished

Roll Away The Stone

Let Us Pray

An Actual Really Truly Live “Good Friday” Would Mean A Naked Stoned Hippie Woman Sirened Jesus Onto A Plane, Bound For The Great Ride Open, Flying Him Forever And Away From The Cross

‘Cause otherwise, he’s going to have to go through this.

He is so much better off. With the naked stoned hippie woman. In the great ride open.

Gethsemane

Maundy, Maundy

Maundy Thursday is the Christian feast, or holy day, falling on the Thursday before Easter. It commemorates the Maundy and Last Supper of Jesus . . . Most scholars agree that the English word Maundy in that name for the day is derived through Middle English and Old French mandé, from the Latin mandatum, the first word he beof the phrase “Mandatum novum do vobis ut diligatis invicem sicut dilexi vos.” (“A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another.”)

—wiki

I won’t leave the attic
and with apologies to Apollinaire I can smoke
while working. I’m doing it
I’m going to it. The jerks are working
empty handed and then they pick up
twigs. Now they want to smoke me
out, but I’m too bat-like!
too happy with my stash and rock and
roll. Unlike the souffle below
who intends to burst. Deep breath, funny air.

—Jeffrey Miller

Calvary

Jesus On The Storm

And Our Seed Is G

So apparently there is some rich-fuck rightwing racist shameless welfare-recipient Mormon-underpants-wearing rancher wantonly roaming his cows over public land for which he has not paid grazing fees for more than 30 years.

This nit-knock has deluded a Reality wherein the federal government don’t mean shit; only, so says he, shall he acknowledge the government of the State of Nevada. He’ll pay them, says he, the state people, to graze, his cattle, over land that don’t caledonia soul music: what it isbelong to him, but he won’t pay no feds.

Next, he’ll be raving on about how he gets to keep slaves.

‘Cause that is jist the sort of git, that this git is.

I am mostly— when not earning my crust in the folly of the law—painting oils, and planting seeds, these days.

Occasionally, I’ll peer into a tube.

That’s how I found out about this old nutbag Nevada sunburnt Mormon, who insists he can ejaculate his cows, for free, all over public land.

And my question, it is this: didn’t we already have the monolith?

Didn’t the true-life documentary film 2001: A Space Odyssey document the true fact that ape-men, they stood before a powerful passing planted black slab, millions of years ago, and thereby grew a brain?

So that we are actually millions of years beyond this yeehaw screaming till his lips bleed that he has a “natural right” to freely and flagrantly cornhole his cows on public land?

I am simply not allowing this crazed cattle-cornholer into my universe.

For he is like a species-appendix. Some weirdsmobile, completely shrunken and malfunctional organ, that may, several million years ago, have actually had a purpose. But, these days, we have no idea what that purpose may have been.

He is an old and desiccated desert rat, and soon he shall die. And, though his of-family people—who are many and manifold, because he refused in his lifetime to control in any way his loins—shall upon his memory weep, soon no one will remember anything about him.

Because, in the great wide open to come, all the land, will belong to everybody.

It is the bare beginnings of this, that this cornholing Rancher Retrovert, he cannot abide.

Too bad for him.

He’s already over.

That in the great wide open to come all the land will belong to everybody, is why, plkntthese days, I am planting these seeds.

We, of the seed people, we have gone long beyond all the galloping cornholing Rancher Retrovert horseshit that appears each day in the “news.”

This blah NSA blah Ukraine blah Nevada horse-ass blah blah blah blah.

Who gives a shit. None of them have ever once touched the monolith. They are so hundreds of millions of years behind the times. Just let them go. They don’t even actually exist. Close our minds to them: and they are gone. Willed-away wisps.

I am growing feverfew. Also, sunflowers. Moonflowers. Hot peppers. Potatoes. Some several different-one blueberries. I am growing passionflower—where it is not supposed to grow. Because I can, and I will. Dill. I am growing. Meadowsweet. Fairies. Magic. I am growing. Sage. Unto immortal May. I am growing. Madder. To dye all us good Celts red. As it has always been written. As even unto today it is done. I am growing. I am surrounding myself with garlic and arnica. I am growing. Buckwheat. It will be all and everywhere. I am growing. All the opium and wormwood: I shall plant thee: and then thee, shall, in vision, plant thyself in me.

I am growing.

I am no longer a sterile shrunken intertubes pod. “Living,” on a screen.

I am growing.

I am coming round here. Just about midnight.

. . . . You Were Only Waiting, For This Moment, To Be Free

Love Is Lord Of All

Eve Crucified

Cain Crucified

Sixteen Coaches Long

Into The Great Weird Open

I’m Telling You, So You Can Tell

Palm Sunday Again

Palm Sunday

Upon A Thousand Hills

Last year there were a lot of daffodils, but not a lot of iris.

This year there were almost no here today, gone tomorrowdaffodils, but now there is a lot of iris.

I have no idea why this is. Because no one is talking.

When you are a red and transparent bearded dragon, and you are really relaxed, sleeping at night, up there on your sticks, you just let your front legs totally hang down.

I now have three wicker rocking chairs, and two wicker non-rockers.

I am The Wicker Man.

When you are zebra finches, you are real easy about what is “daylight.”

If somebody turns a light on where you are, you come out of your nest and start klacking around, as if it is the dawn.

Humans should not take advantage of this. They can muck up their own sleep schedules, but they should not discombobulate these Klacks.

If you are trying to grow outside various different-one plants, and you go to the intertubes, to attempt to learn what deer will not eat, you cannot, in the more pleaseend, trust anything that you read.

For there is only one thing, for sure, that no deer, anywhere, will not eat, and that is cement.

Squirrels get a bad reputation among humans because most humans only observe squirrels on the road. Where they zig and zag back and forth in front of incoming automobiles.

This leads humans to believe that squirrels are brainless. But they are not.

A lot of Bad Animals want to eat squirrels. Squirrels cannot outrun many of these Bad Animals. But they can confuse and frustrate the fuck out of them, by zigging and zagging, zigging and zagging. Through this, they can often get away.

When humans started inflicting automobiles upon the planet, about 100 years or so ago, squirrels, quite rightly, regarded these automobiles as a Danger. Evolution had taught them that the way to evade Danger—if there was no tree immediately at hand—is to zig and zag.

That doesn’t often work with automobiles.

But you can’t blame the squirrels.

Evolution sometimes takes a long time to catch up. For instance, the reason why many—and soon most—Americans, they are as help me, spockfat as blimps, is because humans evolved to savor most the taste of fruit and meat. Which, these days, means candy bars and McDonalds hamburgers. Affordable to almost anybody.

For 100,000 years, fruit and meat were most often in short supply. No longer.

And so Americans, till evolution catches up, will weigh more than many planets.

Some creatures, in re automobiles, have it even worse than squirrels.

Take the wolverine. Evolution had taught the wolverine that, no matter what it was, even if it was a grizzly bear, the best thing to do was to stand and fight.

And so, when the automobile was unleashed upon the land, the wolverine would stand in the road, and say to the automobile: “C’mon.”

This is why, today, there are no wolverines, where there are automobiles.

Squirrels, when not afflicted by automobiles, are actually pretty disciplined and direct.

They have also, over the last two years, buried about 700,000 peanuts around this yard.

This is what amuses me about archeologists and such who dig up my friendsome shard from 7000 years back and then construct an entire Reality around it.

For, if someone were to dig up this place, a century or two along the line, they would no doubt conclude: “this property, without doubt, was a peanut plantation.”

When, in truth, there were just a fair number of squirrels, and jays, to whom I fed peanuts. Because they liked them so. And because I liked them, so.

All It Is

i see you

 

Satori

were you ever driving at 3 in the morning down some 2 lane road in upstate new york & it was raining & the only thing you can get on the radio is some station out of memphis or someplace which comes in perfectly clear & plays great music like life is but a dream du wop du wop & you just turn it up & say to yourself “what the fuck, what the fuck?” well that’s how i feel walking to the post office.

—Jeffrey Miller


When I Worked

April 2014
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