Monday, July 22, 2013

Driving Under the Influence, Too & Also

Washing off  the blood of the lambs the past few weeks—
reading through journals, term papers, creative translations, 
Basement Writers  submissions, & final exams,

Binge &  purging the end-of-semester purgatory —scrubbing
spins of the farther reaches of imagination un-impeded by the
rigor of   disciplinary constraint: your hard core courses
demanding a reputation to sustain & so: weedy  whim
and wit  abound, melancholy introspection galore,  
flights of  fancy dragons, dungeons &
environmental cubbies.

Imagine a collection of D.U.I ‘s  designated  to take
Remedial Driving,  required  (with some community
service)  penalty for operating vehicles under the
influence; and  they might be lawyers, doctors, artists
musicians, bank tellers, insurance agents, Sunday school
teachers and professors, college presidents, mayors and
used car salesmen—all together gathered to study proper
auto-motivation:  their common cause occluding the rich
variety & many splendored diversity each would otherwise
bring to the classroom, irrelevant to the task-at-hand which
is getting sober about driving responsibly
or else.

        Soberly, they undertake their instruction.
            On task.  Aiming for  AA (All A’s)

Now, say, the sober agenda is scuttled: reform reversed for
reckless abandon, give it up, let it be out of control, move
on down  the road of excess leading toward the palace
of  Wisdom.
Between Egypt and the Promised Land:
40 years of wildness. Full labor. No
Caesarean delivery.

Manna maybe, but none  you can  squirrel away. 
Eat it on the spot or forget about it.

And it turns out the Promised Land is full of Giants.
And it turns out the Promised Land  is Egypt all the
time and  always was.

Full of giants, damnit, and you got to killem.
So to speak. In manners of  speaking. .
(Trying to describe what it feels like to cluck if not
chuck  convention, tweak common sense for idiocy,
knowing better but unable to do other wise. Thinking:
wait’ll they get a  load  of this, they’ll love me for it how
else would  one risk foolishness?

A new trap for  mice and men. as if  my difference
would make a difference that would make a difference.) .  

“ I. would like to believe that imagination counts more
than knowledge,” she writes. I say: “it’s not what I know
that counts but whether I can put IT in play.”

Individual Salvation                     Social Gospel
 Pro Life                                         Pro Choice
Existence                                        essence

     2 Economies & can they Just Get Along?

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