The Return – a Petru Re-blog

the bare platform of my life while I was counting the cost of pain … Love it and am so happy for both of you…

petrujviljoen

it gets so one sees persecution everywhere. at least this time round i didn’t have to leave and then no one left and no one came on(to) the bare platform of my life while I was counting the cost of pain … my cat disappeared. time buckled.

let the question leave. now. let it go.
….
relief then. this round, read time … the little moon, (read dreamtime of the jewel) there when i was brought back from where i was searching, searching it came with back with me, beaming on my search in the no where in the no time and now this, this jewel, the subject of my search and now and here

One will …
here be love divine aided by the Love Divine aiding the very real psychic skills it took. I asked. I received. The return of the jewel. And I thank thee.

Exif_JPEG_420 Charlie!!

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About Nan Mykel

I used to think I would be a child prodigy, but then I got old. Formerly I had fantasies of rubbing elbows with cultural and academic leaders but that did not come to pass because I did not become a cultural or academic leader or any other kind of leader, for that matter. I am not even an "Alpha Dog," a term learned from a friend who had to become "Alpha Dog" in order to influence her own pet. (When gazes lock, she never looks away.) For years I expected to become a published author, but in passing I could not avoid the fact that I had little to contribute to the world's bulging dumpsters. I'm embarrassed to report that I also considered my primary process artistic productions powerful, rather than mildly neurotic. Which is not to say that I disrespect myself, only that I am beginning to doubt my potential for making a mark on the world. If I focus on strict self discipline I may be able to keep my garbage removed on a weekly basis, to keep the kitty box changed, the clothes cleaned, the dog watered, fed and walked, but that just catches me up to the starting mark again. When writing I physically grapple with words, wrestling them from their indifference into attempted chunks of awareness. I sit heavily on my chair; I breathe in artificially cooled air; my ear drums note the tap tap of the keyboard and the steady uninterrupted sound of the air conditioner, What is that sound? The roar of the ocean from 30 yards away...Inside, my thoughts are are balls in an electronic game machine, bouncing hither and yon from lever to lever. I am a little grim and intent until I recall a dream related by a black man in the prison where I once worked. He said that when he was a small boy, back home, he dreamed he was standing on his front porch pissing, and that he suddenly found himself pissing stars...
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2 Responses to The Return – a Petru Re-blog

  1. Thank you so much Nan!

    Liked by 1 person

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