The Whack-A-Mole Theory of Mind
You can treat anything
as a kind of language.
DNA, the soil, computer code,
the law, the wagging tail,
colors, tastes, smells.
I smell you.
You smell good.
You can treat anything
as a kind of language.
The ring of fire solar eclipse occured Saturday, October 14.
The following day I woke feeling the event
an omen of prophetic significance.
A bad omen.
Then, on Monday
I posted my thoughts on Instagram.
On Tuesday there was
an explosion
at the Ahli Arab Hospital,
the only Christian hospital in Gaza.
It matters not who is to blame.
What matters is it happened.
What matters
is that celestial events
are a kind of language.
This was an in-your-face celestial event.
Do you really think you’re safe sitting here?
No one is safe.
Safety is not a human right.
Take comfort where you can.
In 2011 I had a near death experience.
I was told I could die right then and avoid
all the (quote) bad shit queued up in Earth’s timeline.
That’s a direct quote,
bad shit queued up in Earth’s timeline.
When I declined the offer the voice called me meshuga,
a word borrowed from Hebrew meaning
foolish, stupid, insane, idiotic.
What fascinates me about it all
is that the voice explicitly said the words
queued up.
You know what a queue is…
it’s a line,
like when you
and your fellow kindergartners
lined up at the door
before your teacher
guided you to the playground.
I do not understand,
nor do I necessarily believe,
that these ongoing events,
Trump, Covid, climate change,
Ukraine, Russia, Hamas, Israel, Gaza…
(the list fattens daily)
are determined in advance
by a divine will.
But I am certain
there is still more to come.
Seek succor where you find it.
Take comfort knowing you
are the poet of your body
and the poet of your soul.
As for me,
I am a walking code 404.
I am not found.
Not today.
