(p)resist….the (p)ridiculous…………(p)revolt!!!

5. I was overjoyed when someone said,
“go…
and join work parties,
record worker songs, poetry,
seek and find the heart of Saturday night
—that mythic dream of lust, Death,
creation, performance,
collapse, bliss, worry,
sorrow,
plenty, scarcity, amity and enmity—
wherein much is revealed;
attend festivals, funerals,
help build sculptures out of trash,
erect communities with yon epistemic partners,
live with them, as they live, brew kombucha, bake bread,
babysit the kids,
hike into the high alpine,
cultivate roomsfull of nervous college kids,
grow your data sets, eyeless in Gaza,
repeat a million hubric flaws,
read your poems rigor mortis,
hand in assignments, empty pages,
plug parking meters for old ladies,
form a student strike,
plant trees to ‘make light’
get the everlasting ink stains under your nails,
these are your salad days,
drive the mountain pass with the grandkids of rum-runners,
wreck a marriage,
break your arm, swallow ayahuashca, lies, and half-truths,
get arrested,
fall in love (again),
fall in love.”
I was overjoyed, as I say, the voice was mine. It is a pleasure to speak/with you//today. Thank you.

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