We have new followers, pause, and give them a silent welcome, “Welcome quarantine gods/Welcome to our little sangha/Welcome to the evershifting, evermoving, everchanging/Welcome home/Welcome to not staying/Welcome to leaving/Welcome to always arriving again and again.”
Introduction: The Long Conversation
Con/Jur/d 12/3/2020
I suspect,
I may have,
food poisoning,
from kimchi
past its due,
mixed with bone-
broth rice
and 2
farm-fresh
eggs;
maybe I’m being punished
for failing to taste
the kinetic
avian futures,
interrupted by my endless,
beginningless, appetites.
As you read this,
this book, this poem, this passing
dialog between digitally encoded flashes of light
and sound born in the first measureless moments
of your universe; this transmutation
began, begun, begins, and ends —
‘All at once’
and still ‘right now,’
Time being the last-born
sibling; although, depending
on the customs currently
caterwauling through
the endless-conversation,
She could be considered
the first,
since without her birth,
hierarchies of histories
no matter how simple,
could never be,
created.
Of course,
I’m feeling better,
having passed over the 2 edged sword,
(My teacher would say beneath)
of familiar stories.
What I meant to convey,
in the moment is a sense -
a sense of urgency,
since we never know,
always with certainty,
when it stops,
or starts:
How does the conversation ebb?
How does the conversation flow?
Where did it begin?
Where does it go?
What is our place in it?
Only you know.
That’s it for this week ya’all. I’m working on giving Doc Concrescence a home on Substack. Please stay tuned and ‘til next time, see you around the Lost Worlds!
Con/Jur/d just for you.
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