Mandala of Me …

MANDALAS.
So, there is a Secret Art defined…

Some things speak to us: they are intricate, scientific, complex, inviting, technical. I always understood mathematics – to some degree. Logarithms could be exponential, or just plain boring. “Algorithms” can be a matrix of proportional expressions that Google uses to judge a website’s worth.

Or an “algorithm” could be the matrix of your dysfunctional family’s ingrown communications protocols. The matrix we grew up in, is sometimes the matrix we still sit in, unless we’re truly “left home”.

Sometimes, you have to “leave home” to find home.

Or … let’s just say ALWAYS.

Mandala Aloe Verra
This Thing follows you around wherever you go…

A MANDALA, according to my momentary cauldron of uninhibited thought processes, is a symmetrical chemical arrangement, where eons of light have traveled through several Milky Ways, just to fall on your cheap computer screen and arrange “pixels” – made in China – in a way that reminds you of your innate and deep core or center.

I am awed by this sort of thing.

Partly because of the inherent beauty in such an easily-contrived mixture of bad photography and good computer graphics. Partly because it speaks of the Unlimited Arrangement of Things Possible.

Remember Drugs?

Remember what we saw through our Closed Eyes and Open Pupils back in the sixties? We don’t forget that because it spoke to us. Again: about the Deep Arrangement of Things that Occurred Long Before We Were Born.

And the Voice it spoke with is the Voice that is still speaking. The Deep Arrangement of Things. The Arranger. The Lone Arranger.

It’s kind of like the Inner Florist Shop of God. Contains all these Astounding Blueprints of Life. Molecular Chemistry that would blow David Suzuki’s Fuzzy Skull apart. Things Secret to us that are Beyond Sacred, known by All, Discussed by Few, Enjoyed by only a Handful.

And offered to YOU.

The Soft Fashion of Love

The Soft Fashion of Love
wrote itself wrapped itself floats itself
around the central finger of my ear canal

The Taste of Electric Dewdrops lingering
like frost on my tongue, god’s cake icing
Krishna’s Dandelion Wine, Buddha’s Belgian Chocolate

The Soft Fashion of Love

The Indelible Massage of Time
stretching and tearing my fabric
into singing shreds of encoded green silk
mixed with the sweetness of Coconut Milk
lifting my nose to the laughter of
a Million Gardenias in your
Drunken Mid-day sun

The Soft Fashion of Love
speaks its Designerly Style
parading in Paris, New York & Malibu
for a thousand Giraffes, a Million Peacocks
a Gamelon Orchestra of conches and chimes
that all begin anew …

In that Fragrant and Silken Tunnel
that leads
to the doorway
of you

Soft Fashion of Love #2