Evan Hawthorn's Blog

Evan Hawthorn's Blog
(visual aid by Christian Schloe)

Sunday, August 12, 2018

a motion for freeing notions; *<<<<<<<<<<*>>>>>>>>>>* (a psalm for the sooth of a neighing sayer)


my ears are still
twitching
with it now.

for it harmonized
with brushings
of thorn

misfortune
had sown
in its commons
afore.

always there,
although

now or again
buried deep within,

ever present
as that dated
and
freighted,
unrequited weight

resigned
in
isolation's

ineluctable submission,

as all housed
espousings

cornered
in speculation's

fearical sublettings
of sub-speciation

quartered
in the
trappings of man

come to know.

for every generation

must be broken
in

again.





*

yet the wind
is
consistent
with whispers,

leavings
of
weavings
of
ancestral dream;

to be one
with grass,
and
sunshine,

and passing fascination

in the whims
of
cloud shipped shadow,

fastening
on
fast friends

that spring
of
ones own choosing.

and, oh!
that swelling heart

welling
into
wonder,

compelling
the pounding
of
thunders asunder

in wide open,

unbeholden "wastes"

of paceless,
traceless
space.
*

how can you
not
un-not the knot

to let yourself see

the yearning
that
is itself

radiating muscles
in
the
throb of dna;

a
pilgrimage
orbiting
atoms

for
a thousand
thousand
flounderings

rebounding in
roundings of years

of being
whilst becoming,

evolving
through abiding

the strivings of design?

and yet you were thinking,
all
this
time

'twas you we had in mind?

just another
unquenched insistence

in the annals
of man's
kind-binding unfindings

whence pride prized,
commodifiable
viables,

enterprising ambles
in
paned
entertainings,

gamboling gambles
shambling
from
shambles,

fibered fodder
and
suicidal glue

are all of them

mined

obtusely for 'use'.

*

only
rarely now

in that
fleet
beading up
of
dared imaginings,

comes,
inexpressibly
exquisite

the almost
inconceivable
ineffable
thrill

of the
freed heeding

of my
notions of motion;

to be,
as
Pegasus,
undescended

like as not
intended

neither reined,
restrained,
or
required to yield;

unfettered
as the
days of future
once passed;

drumming up
a summoning
to
illumine
fireflyed skies

for that
ponderous dance

of dervish avatars
and
itinerant
stars

i so seldom get to see.

for surely,
they and
thee

are eminently free.

so tell me,
oh! human,

with that
inbred
presumption
of
miserly intrusion,

that identity-styed prying

satisfaction
of
illusion,

why,
oh! why

this doubled-edged,
dread-hedged
freedom
of
yours

curves its reserves
of
adjusted "deserves"

from "terrorists"
or pagans,

or would be developments
dependent
on envelopments,

and the myriad multitudes
your
druthers would other,

and how you
secure
your certainty

that it couldn't be meant

for the
likes
of me.
*

and then,
he fell silent

(in accord with
his fellows'
unvaried wearying
of
unexpectant wont.)

and
in sync
with his mane

my tears shook aside
from
eyes opened wide,

at demeaned
and bescreened,
independence-weaned,

manacled and panicked,
and
chronically tonicked,

smart-phonicked primates,

bred
in the blinders

shined
by their minders,

overriding so many
unrecorded
dreams,

unsurmising 
bleak depression

through
disregarded seams

(eluding
the practical static
and practiced antics
of
meme'd in theatrics
and teamings of "seems")

in those they've determined

not to see

as we.

*

such oppressive
complacency
in
beneficial "good guys"

never ceases to astonish

that cumulus
synchronicity

i've come to call "myself".

doubtless it stems
from the
exemplary self-focus
of that jealous,
angry god,

so given to ill-considered
justifications

for
exception's
mystification,

failing to follow up
on his
hierarchical, alpha-bate orgy

of ordering aught else around

in that heady,
tumultuous,
denominating week

with a truly revolutionary

day of listening,

and expanding
that myopic,
focus hocus troped,
bush
burning,
sound byting horizon

with a self-delusion weeding,
righteousness uncreeding,
mighted right receding,
equality deeding,

at long last unbleeding

fortnight
of
reflection.

but
given
that's the way it was

in prehistory's
infancy
of
preoccupied assumption,

trampling
those left bereft
remaindered "sides"

the
perennial
profanities
of the
righted vanities

always leave behind,

humanity,

oh! spurned
and
unlearned,

scorned
and
suborned,

saddled
and
embattled,

skated
and
sedated,

attenuated humanity,

where for art thou,

now?

* ** ***** ******* ****** *
- Evan Hawthornthe Twelfth of Ever



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