We’re guilty, globally, of assuming otherness, in a sense that is not intended to imply a lack of uniqueness in inter-intra personal identity (for there is much, and we must avoid the fatal error of intentional-or-otherwise ego collapse; you and I are distinct things; there is no universal I; there is only a universal “we”--the assumption of singularity is to believe strictly in limitation) .  Otherness here is intended to mean a much more subtle, but much more fatal,  abrogation: that we are distinct things from the world, that we exist outside of it, transcend it, are not made of the same stuff as her, are not really wearing her skin hermit-crab-like: on loan, briefly. 


Preface
 I had a vision not all that long ago standing in a field. I struggled to think whether the meaning was found inside or outside, but then I realized that I am never outside my inside, nor would this be possible, and the deadly confusion of the two surely cannot ever take place, because certainly my insides are my insides and my outsides are my outsides, necessarily, for me to be me and we to be we.  So then I saw us all little thumbs or nubs on a great circle, feeling and thinking as we do, and it occurred to me that as we think and feel so does She. So there is some sort of proof that there are places in the world that accord meaningfully. By virtue of being you or I we we provide proof that there is something more than sheer matter populating an unfeeling universe that infinitely extends up and down. There is, the vastness, subjectivity, embedded, maybe subordinate, but certainly there.  Interior and exterior imply each other, but the insideness of me or you is an internal, twofold,  insideness. So then to think or feel is to, by transitivity, say that the world thinks or feels--or at least a part of the world is thinking or feeling something in that moment--and to say otherwise is to cleave a chasm that there is no chance of crossing. The Eleatics, a very long time ago, found a similar abyss between one step and another: the proof  of movement was the fact that it is possible at all.  To move from the interior to the exterior is, similarly, possible by proof of the ability to realize meaning.  















You picked the

Biggest of the bunch--

A real jewel of a thing--

And crushed it so it ran red

Through your sweet fingers;

And I thought of nothing.


Those that weep in the sky,

Pins of prickling brightness,

Pity them in having their  

no choice; when man

Rails against his fates,

I think that,

Even if it were possible,

To think as much, to feel

An anger that I wanted,

My God,

What a feeling.






A while ago you used a word

Against your brother.

And it Certainly was a good word,

One that was made to declare a kind of

Rule, nameless and foreign, a habit your

Children abhor, yet, perforce,

Wear to the very day.

So I thought a humor, or maybe grace, then,

In finding you there, all alone, your

nose bent across your face, glassy-eyed,

Sinuous featured, shapeshifter,

Hunch-backed, not so tall nor

Mighty, not as memory served

You to mine, no, but the difficulty,

Like things harsher, remember, was forgiven.

For a little red mark, right

In the center of your forehead,

Unmistakable, like a flash in my eye,

Betrayed you, which, for your kind,

Ought to sting, salty, irony, but should

not be unfamiliar with.

You were changed, no doubt,

But unmistakable.

What a turn of chance:

And I did not balk.

Through your affect of Inverness

Heavy-handed petting and strangerly affection,

A good act, a pale and cold

Assumption of forgetting,

Which was funny, because I could have sworn

I didn’t look all that different.

The exchange was brief,

Tense and stingy, with economy

Only brothers have, or did,

And then, like before, you were off,

Breathing down some barfly’s neck;

But with expedience comes the

Sensation that there was more than let on.

Good try.

At the end of the night, then,

leaving you, still sitting there, for who knows

How long, longer,

In a little box of dark wood,

Pints and

Pithy half-memories of always the day before,

Grudging tolerance of townies, tourists, tweakers,

Was no affront, no great pain, because it was always

What you wanted, and it should be so true that

Some men get what they like.



The sunset of my memory bathes nothing in warm empty light.


I saw the night

Sky in your

Eyes,

All

Big-round-

Sweet-warm things

That were heavy with

The teary dew of as many stars as you

Could count, and I know you’re good

At counting.


You put my legs

On top of yours, and pulled

Me

In—

What was I but

Clay in your hands—

Closer than I thought,

Was comfortable with;

And for how long our bodies

Knew each other, I very much

Just didn’t want to feel the pain of

Want, then.


But you had me, and I sat,

Listened:

A year younger in time,

Older than dirt now, that sandy small  Vessel of yours,

Crazy-hair'd-crucible, flecked with

Rose gold, all of you overflowing with

Your mother’s mother’s mother’s mother’s…

And you said to me, remember:

“You aren’t special.”


I knew you were right. Always have been.

Always will be.





And as he lay on damp ground,

A ghost come round, thinly,

His body touched with rot,

He had a memory, lit like a

Lantern through the weave of

His palm,

Of a weeping mother and her consort,

Though not unfamiliar to him, either,  

And he thought, as water wept from cavern walls,

"Oh, pity them"

And slept forever.


Then he awoke,

Rolled the tombstone from his chamber,

Slow steps out the mouth of

Sleep, his eyes, gentle and raw,

Tear in the catching of the

Sun,

Lighting a Galelian sea, whose

Little tawny bodies moved

Just as wind on similar

Waters.  

And His chest churned with them, at the sight of

Their skinny hands holding the sky,

But he looked closer, doubted, and

saw them have the Earth,

Hurl her at those eagle-eyed galea-bearers,

And despaired;

So he came to them all resolve, bare feet burning the sand,

Climbed high on a ledge, weak and parched,

And gave to them with his sweet low voice:

"My children, forgiveness...'

As a kind stone, flown from the passion and sinewy arm

of a caring man,

came between the Rabbi's eyes

and shore him in two.



We wandered

Out that dank,

Dark mouth of the world,

Her boughed lips of

Honey-leafed ivy,

Bramble,

and Huckleberry,

All dressed in the

Fineness of

Midday sun.


And I had you,

Had you sewn into the

Seam of the song I strung

Carefully, so as to not look back

Once,

At your freshness, sweeter than

Spring,

Which still hung round my

Head like any good laurel of

Great effort

Should.


But somewhere,

In the worry,

Or the excitement of

Having won,

I forgot to keep count.

Forgive me:

I could not bear the thought of

Things that I have

No want

To say.


So, maybe,

You, still shadow,

Silent,

Unspeaking,

Follow me round,

(At least I hope)

With hands not to rough,

Ageless,

And to never falter with

Voice, just for you.

So a few times we have

Come to where

We were, that day, the

First,

And, surely,

the sun

Still looks the

Same.



The boy looked up at her,

With big eyes that were furrowed,

Intentionally, in exaggeration,

To show that he meant business; was

Tough and

Not to be made a friend

Or fool

Of,

All in response to the sweetly rhymed question of

Where did you come from?

And the boy, just before, had said:

"Don't know",

And resolved to show how much he didn't care

By shoving his little face in-between his

Elbows, arms crossed

On his tiny knees, brown and red

From dirt and bramble-scratch,

Already brought up to his chin that,

Thank God for hiding,

Quivered slightly like the

Oak leaves all twisted up

Just above.


She tossed his hair gently,

Smiled,

And said nothing,

But knew that the boy had

Needed her for quite a long time,

And had already made up her mind

Long before he was born as

This runt

To make sure she did:

And the fear was no more in him,

Something he did not understand,

And she held out a hand that,

I swear,

If you looked close enough,

You could see right through to the

Mossy floor,

And he took it without thinking,

Without regret,

And for a brief moment

Remembered.



He cut his teeth (and

On occasion the odd shin) on

Those little gravel roads that

Took the tall grass fields out

To the city that bloomed in

The hazy West.


The bike was steel, drop-barred

And v-braked, twenty-sixer that

Was a hand-me-down of a hand-me-down,

Riding smooth wasn't in it's

Country vernacular, but between

Clever gear ratios and well-ordering of

Playful tinkering, it certainly was

No slouch. And he would take it

To the crown of the world, out there

A hill, rolling and soft, but to his

Boyishness, already eclipsed by

Dancing flowers not uncommon

Out there, it was, perhaps,

A big scary.


Each time was a challenge to outdo the

Memory of the time before, and the

Memory's memory of the time before, the

Little ghost that bowed his head just

The same to help the wind wick over

Him, and faster did they all go, in tow,

A train of spirits all over the mound,

Little thing lost in the sea of impression,

Until one day he was certainly the fastest,

And the bike could do nothing more to

Offer it's way, but it didn't matter,

Because the hope was already in him,

And he resolved that there was no

Greater spirit.


But for him the speed was no child-matter, no

serious expectation of littleness, and often

he’d run from the school yard from the others

electing the preference of the company of

the shade of gamble-oaks, trapped in

Contemplation of each passing moment,

Painful to think that each rumination on

The passing was

A waste of another second: but the world,

Bless her, has her toys,

Or trials, experiments, and ought-ness

Means only a bit to the mother of obligation,

So he was tortured, and wept softly

Into starry-night pillowcases in the

Young morning over death that had

Yet to come, and would not come

For very long.  


And so he became, though he wished not to,

Begrudgingly taken in the current, pissed

At the growing pains, and took no

Currency from the affording of

Higher pleasures. His frame soon

Came molded to motorcycle fuel tanks,

And the little hill but a warm vagueness,

And the gravel roads interstates of

Painful recollection that he spurned, and so to

Highways, rights of passage

Up and down western slope peaks

And triple digit speeds haunting regardless,

Did he take to wrap up the glowing corpse of

a

Missed childhood. Not enough, certainly, not

Yet.


A long while later, a whirlwind of

Rearrangement, and the world was

Unrecognizable: man had his

Claim in the stars, and looked well

Beyond to dull, dead rocks that

Promised some sort of raw wealth; hubris

Knows no bounds, and history

Only repeats itself if

You know it.


But he was the lucky few, a

Captain, the product of incredible effort:

Silent nights, loveless afternoons

Crammed in a g-force simulators or

Library cubicles, confines of

Greater aspirations; the bike sought

Dust, and so dust found it, and it

Seemed fitting. But he made it at

a cost useless to think about, and the

Reward was not distance from

Her great trials, but the chance to

Have it all come to a stillness that he

Had craved since the dawn of his

Memory broke over the east.


So there he was,

Captain light-year, alone in a

Thing that resembled no human effort

To ever come before, a star caught in a

Jar of polyceramic-something, whatever,

He wasn't a materials guy, but there he

Was, and the itching in his hands wouldn't

Go, and the ground control encouraged

Restraint, just a little, before full throttle,

But he couldn't help himself:

How could you expect him to?

Poor little thing, they thought, as

The kettle-pot-pod caught up to the light that

Had robbed him, kept him prisoner,


But to him, finally,

Eye to eye,

There it was:

              .




And as the first left its tomb,

Raced towards the sunset at a pace that left the roar of its own

Raging flight breathless behind,

As it kissed the long spindly fingers

Of ticker-tape pulses of enemy sonar,  

And shone star-like on blinking backlit monitors,

Between demands for action and the prickling,

Electric air

of fear,

Nothing was said,

Nothing was done,

And staid that way till the thing

Birthed a sun, the first, in the middle of Brooklyn,

And though he knew no hope for them,

Too late by even the second before it woke,

Maybe he could afford it,

Pay it forward,

By a turned cheek,

And silence,





Wandering spirit, son of

Heelers, horse breakers,

Semiphores and rhythm, schooners,

Brig-bared, thatch-dweller-were,

Coventry's youth, boy,

Child of husbanders and

Magistrates, hawk-nosed

Palatines, grey-skinned stone-

speaking dogs,

Oh, young

boy, too much of it, youth,

In that youth, having it stain your

Hound-mouth hung high, great toothy

Smile,

So you had higher humor, and

You had, by memory-played

strings, dull

And amber, caster of shadows, locket-

languishing

Haunting, now known to be

Made to hang from

Telephone poles tacked to

Castle'd buttes colored in tongues

Somewhere new, and men there

Having had their skin made from the

Same potters soil as the spells speaking

They to you.


Oh son, hinterland orphan,

To see you now, fondness in

My chest that runs warm,

And know no main could certainly

Rob that sweetly from my heart,

Yours to mine, and have remembrance

Be swept by chilling course of wavering

Heights, but in doubt does my certainty

Become salt-choked, loured

With foam, and so

Do I hesitate, and hold uncertainty a

Sweetness in the tongue that

Tears leap out:

Has your stranger habit robbed you of

Your fonder nature? Better to have it

Bound up tight, no greater surprise to

Savages, but

I look to your

Eyes, and see cloudiness, though they

Kin as those that

Cling tight to the crest of shore

shapers, here now colored by

A kind of light, and the beaming ray

Of newfound spirit, and though

They as mine, that they have their

Share of fine touch, to you is a kind of

Paleness that draws close,

Arrests,

Reeks

on its breath

candied air, testament to

Those airs, unkempt and dark, turning

Winds that tear cross great seas of

weed, grass and beasts like hummocks of

Muscle and horn, and no,

They to not often take, no,

but willingly had.



Oh, right, I was just here:

Oh, I was just right, here

Oh, here was just I right,

Here, oh, was just right, I,

Here right was just, I, oh,

I, here, oh, was just right,

Just here was right, oh I,

Here just was right, oh, I,

Right here just was, oh I,

Just right was here, oh I,

Right, here, was just, oh I.






What were once dream,

Subtle, faint and star-shaped

hazily in that of yours,

Of kind,

Disposed as similar, but

Quietly were they, and

As proof by your curled lips,

Were it preferred, did it

Stand to reason that were tender

Wonders, wonder wordless, and

Were it but a moment

No matter, for the dreamer

A good proof that it was,

And so then enough, so then

For gentleness, and furrowed

Brow regardless, that

Were the dream anything else,

Somehow, senselessly, that it

Could be had in the way wanted,

And only the simple matter of

Learning, patience against

Standstill silvers and trembling

Tide, could it

Always be as much.



What surprise he might've known

But didn't; despite a mind

Made of the same stuff that shone

Terribly bright in the further

Kind he looked upon when the

Day to her bed, rosy and overgrown, and

Her boy, with no tanness, no

Evidence of days spent in midday

Toil, no freckle or kiss of vulgar color,

Sable in the sky as he is, sit still and

Scowl at the rougher type, those things

Made to be bound to the stinking

Soil of sows and heifers and sires,

Yes, of the same type that flickering

Flame of candle-lit waking, sublime

Sense, but of a proportion of smaller part

Than even the dankest corner of

The cobwebby thoughts of unsympathetic

Majestry, whose darkness, effortlessly, out shown any variety of that

Triumphant genius known as willingness.


No, nothing as much could've been had by

That tight frock of dark curl and skin giving

And smooth to be taken and made to

Bear by waters kind and flowing but

Certainly having, the thought that as he,

Adam, black mother and the still kind hour of the glossy reign of that diminutive sun, stood before

What assumed his familiarity, form not

Unlike ten fingers, and legs like the

Height of him to the hip, and wings all

Round to prefigure a sort of expectation,  

That the thing that had brightness in him

To outdo the midday lady of giving,

Could have had envy as he did, garden

Keeper, a sanguine machine that breathed hotness and deference, and the succor

Of flower, fruit, vine, bower, and what this

Little man may not have had as those

More deserving did he make up for in

A kind of care, a word that to dare to

Speak an aspersion even in contemplation,

The thing that made of the morning

Star tears to run stinging and burn like iron on skin

From fire quickly to brand his

Fair cheek.



She was beautiful, and

Had many names from many

Kinds of people, all different and

Sweet, loving and fair in

Her ways: For as

Many to have her in mind

So did she recall faces, and

Forms, all as gracious as

Any before. But who

Would have guessed that

The kindness of her lot,

Someone afforded such

Blessing to be likeness to

Great variety, diffuse light

Herself shone upon and

reflected a world of real good-

ness, my God, what a feeling:

But who could have thought,

Certainly not I, nor you, or

Us, that to be it all is a kind

Of curse against being

Anything in particular?



Seems that the big fella forgot

That to afford choice,

Unparalleled will, or parallel

To tendencies higher than

Even fanciful aspirations,

Is to find them accepting,

Having,

The babes,

Their swollen bellies

of a suffering

Supper that only

Begets itself,

And to dress themselves in

Malaria, flies, often

Grey, calloused eyes, and the

Thought, to

Have that be their

Preferred lot, of

Degree from

Adam and his

Poor sire, seems

A little

Mean.



Their language, once of

Streams and brooks and elms that

Hurried to the smooth breast of their

Little valleys, green and pretty, well

Manicured, and scenes of sunsets

And sunrises, now framed in some

Stuffy museum, now

Remembered, now only as those

Painted and remembered, but once

Where they had no other choice to

Be, not memory yet, but the place where

Their labor and toil were yet to be the

Nostalgia of a kind of noble mind

That had never known the

Postholing mud, nor the unquestionable

God in the wiry hair of a great

Sleeping girl in the breeze,

Now words that had a newness to them,

The same words, the same specie of

Stone made to talk of great men and

Greater deeds, clanwiseness and

Kinhood, now silly and spoken in ways

Made to slur.



The weight of their hearts were weighed

And found to be much lighter: little wild

Beasts, not much of a surprise that the

Light of a field mouse to be proportional,

Though no less fine and noble a kind of

Kiss of reminding.


So was The Thought, then, that,

to the little ones,

what with their according divinity,

no less of Favor but lower by virtue,

closer to the soft breath of her heart,

so had their own kind of holiness.

Though too little too late was it known that

for them this garden of Rest was their higher paradise,

the willing work of a million billion Souls singing in step to

keep it as much, and

That they aspired to no greater heaven as

Those yoked souls cairned in clay did, who

Knew of a dim memory of Repose, and no

Toil, choice, or death, things the little ones

Did not mind nor fear, because they were content,

Those grateful ones, for their lot, and of humor,

Chose no foul temper.

This is what is meant by the meek shall inherit

I guess what is left.


And as man's son did kill death, sweetly, so did they,

but as though with kindness even

Greater than the greatest. They knew no fear,

And sought no higher court, no greater

Paradise, but did that yoked soul of

Higher reason and choice and toil,

Lacking the arms of all other angels,  

But not their wit, took the deathless clay

And made it bend, unyielding and now unfamiliar,

towards the stars in a

Manner not unfamiliar to their Aspiration?



For only the joy of want to be

The enduring sturdiness of

Great simplicity,

So it was: a dreamer of

Broad leaves, and great

Height, blueness and bark, and the

Little things all around

That lived on it, and made

It, the dreamer, a home, of

Kindred spirits: They gratefully

To be in habit of a

Steady sleeper returned the

Favor by

Certainly being in waking

The gift of a memory that

Never faded.


And so each

Dream there was only the want

To be, and there it was being,

And never did the joy go

Anywhere else, nor

Did they, for a similar

Wont,  so they the

Tree remained, and would

So long as the joy was had.




















I thought a thought that went like this: 



We should only concern ourselves with making beautiful things: by virtue of realizing beauty in the world that did not exist before, we make it more beautiful. To make things unbeautiful is to disfigure the world, or to make a disfigurement that is less beautiful than otherwise, or before.
To make the world more beautiful is noble; it is the least we can do for what we have done to her.  



So maybe there is a moral obligation to make beautiful things. This is a pretty significant leap--imposing an obligation from something that may or may not assume the valence of “good” and “bad”--but I think it might hold. 
Beauty is certainly beautiful: we don’t look at something beautiful and say that it is other than, or is an exception to, beautiful. Beauty engenders pleasant feelings reminiscent of that beauty. Beauty engenders a sense of harmony that accords. Beauty subjectively impresses us in a sense that could be rendered as utility-increasing. A beautiful thing is certainly not unbeautiful. The worst thing beauty can be guilty of is being beautiful for itself: empty beauty. But I still think this is better than otherwise. If I fail to see something beautiful at least once a day I feel worse off than had I seen at least one beautiful thing. So I have evidence that one armature of the world is better off in the presence of beauty, and that beauty is in some sense an improver, maximizer of goodness, or at least kind enough to impart it. 

Cervantes’ Masterpiece is about strictly the unbeautiful: it is about destruction, isolation, political populism, enshittification, cancerous capitalism, and suffering in subtle degrees no less unworthy to feel as suffering. 

So then why do it? 

I’m not sure. I navigate it with a guilt that becomes increasingly burdensome. But to look away from the unbeautiful is to deny a series of terrible things that are really going on. 

I wish I could look at home and think “wow, how nice, how beautiful and strange and untouched and unblemished”. But I don’t. I go home and I’m sick. I go home and I can’t even tell its home anymore. It feels like a finger is pushing up my chin and my eyes and I have to look at strictly the unblemished buttes, what little is left, at the very top, where they’re molded to meet the sky so they can keep it up, keep up the hope, what little really is left, and that’s all there is, that feeling.