After waiting patiently in line for years
I'm back on the river where I belong
where my soul finally is free again

It's the only thing that I claim to be good at
the only place I understand
the only time I feel completely at peace

It's called the Grand Canyon
a great cleft in the Earth
carved by the Colorado river over six million years
exposing 1.7 billion years of  layered earth
rock
history
laid down as sandstone, shale, conglomerates, red and black granite

A great narrow slit in the planet's crust
5000 feet deep
sinuous and sensuous
with jet black vishnu schist and red zoroaster granite
at it depths
wet and shiny and smooth
visualize looking out of the vigina
at the bottom of the world
Gaia's great gaping cunt

If life is a journey
then a trip down the river can be thought of as a metaphor for life
in reverse
In life one travels forward in time
un-learning what's important in order to become civilized
On the river one travels backward in time
(down through the layers of Earth's geologic past)
un-learning civilization in order to discover what's important

So, what's important; what's the lesson?
Nothing of value exists in your civilization
nothing that has any use
Take it away
leave me my canyon, water, red rock, bird song and
my soul unencumbered

What do I say to friends, neighbors, lovers?
How can I say it without offending?

a ripple on the water
the cry of a peregrine falcon
the song of a canyon wren echoing at dawn
a pollen coated bee writhing orgasmically in a prickly pear flower
baby big horn sheep scampering up and down broken cliffs
Mars peeking through a crenulation on the rim
hot wind
or cool breeze
on wet skin
soft sand between bare toes

moonlight illuminates the canyon wall
where barely perceptible shadows
dance to the love songs
that the river murmurs through the night

Eventually, this insanity that we have wrought
this civilization will be gone
reduced to a layer of rock (twencen conglomerate)
exposed in a canyon wall where
rusty cadillac bumpers protrude and
skyscrapers are squashed to rubble
all this hubris resting at long last where it belongs

at the canyon's end
after the take out
after the joy
the reflection
the journey ends
ultimately
when I climb into the shower
and watch the last grain of red river sand
disappear down the drain

How then  does one reenter the domain of "civilization"
without being overwhelmed by a sense  of
grief and
prostitution?

I wait patiently for the next permit
 

blogan@chipotle.org
5-19-01