Google+ Followers

Thursday, March 24, 2011

BEAR (Augustus Owsley Stanley III, January 19, 1935 – March 13, 2011)


this is the elixir in the forbidden chalice

made in the kitchen with love and intent

letters written on papers with pictures

numbers remembered would one day

be forgotten like formulas for open

open would cause forward

forward began furthur

it went so far for so long

it went where none had gone before

it was shared by many more as it traveled

furthur and furthur

on hoffman's bicycle you rode

dancing on the pedals as they spun

dancing on the petals of the rose crystal of a potent love

dancing like the bear of all colors that knew all

about all things there was to know

even the unknown

that knew and knew and knew and knew me better

than I knew myself in the mirrored orb of truth ever present

the wheels came off because they were never necessary

magic carpets were never known to need them

celebrations were your anonymous namesake

you bejeweled the world with opportunity

you blazed a golden bolt across the sky

I flew your flag well above the rest

your were my post office Fagan

sent me to scurry among the throngs

the walls seethed and bellowed

the sky curled at the edges

like postcards drenched in inquisition blood

cartoons came to life inside foil wrapping

goonie birds flew aloft again

flapping mother of pearl wings against agate skies

droppings of sugar cubed dollops descending from

their Mandelbrot orifices opened like third eyes as spigots

dropping dropping dropping dropping

magic upon tongues painted across dismembered eyeballs

staircase crystals captured in vials of hopeful release

let go let go let go let go hold on closely

I worked into meticulous nights until glorious sunrise

the sunshine is liquid brightness awash in love today

I traveled with the unpacked suitcases as per your instructions

like a wizard's apprentice with quicksilver messenger veins

that flowed with your love and a mindful of stories you told

of laboratories in hiding and swiss bank accounts lost forever

as you beckoned the world to leave itself one last time

so it might have one last chance to make a commune with you

and the magic you spun out of your blessed fingertips

as I sat in cross legged amazement trying to learn something new

that you told me I was born with inside of me

farewell to you, craftsman of the freedom to be

all the freedom that I have known

all the freedom I would ever

really want or need

naked and free for all to see

this is the gift you left us

like you never left at all

like you were never going

anywhere but here now


but, furthur

1 comment:

ezcodee said...

The craftsman a father? loving..sad..