Everyways and Allthings

White on black, Pacobell's canon followed by an Adagio in G Minor, which is skipped through. Considering God's alchemy when listening to something that synesthetically conjures up aged cheese does not make for an ontologically balanced springboard for the prose.

The mystery is nothing if not persistent: the hairshirt-cum-mourningshawl-cum-KTel magic massager all in one.

At once: Terrible Beauty.


Like 44 coming on, which it just did; mocking and transporting me; mesh on mesh; necrotic strands interlaced with diaphanous gossamer.

Queen's gambit, necrotic moves up the gross centers and wraps itself around the heart, squeezing and infiltrating, finds a back road into the mind and pollutes and confuses. Missing, of course ,the fact that half of its being is the gossamer diaphonon, which is as much host for the party in the heart and throat chakras as the necrotic mess. More than half, because the Light is shining up through the mesh, reflected by the gossamer, and illuminating not only the yin-yang of thread but the chakras and background Itself as Light.

And still and always: That which is aware of the Terrible Beauty

Tense ennui; legs moving like jitterbugs on speed; shards of desire or boredom or boredom of desire: deconstructed.

Into tensions and movements and energy, without label, just Is playing itself through the body.

The body which is watched by That without attributes.

And finally: The non-locatable Everyways and Allthings that cannot meet because there is no space; cannot observe because there is no from:to; cannot but Be from and into the space that the white on black and cheese and Hallelujah choruses of course Are in the first place.

Namaste.