She told me baby
take it slow
so I took off my socks
put down my beer
and went
naked outside
because I had been saying
that Nature is alive and real
and calling us to save her, man!
but I got too excited about it.
I danced in that warm tropical rain.
My mother had secretly warned her
about what she called my manias
but which both my wife and I
considered to be more like
spiritual experiences and
sometimes divinations. That
is a chasm that reaches deep into history
and continues to fracture
modern western society.
These very digressions in logic
were signs of clinical crazy.
Nonetheless,
I danced in the rain and
It was as if her veins were made of
rusted roads,
there was dust
that blew through
there was mud
without shoes
and when you're literally
dancing in the rain you're shivering
at the beginning of it
and then you adjust
and take a deep breath
and, Christ, that feeling is
more than just the body
it's like you are the chill that goes
all the way into that dark
and the air is like something thick
and invisible
palpably pregnant with, quite literally,
all possibilities.
And we can by seeing them
and moving them
make them real.
And so I danced in the rain.
Sometimes it all shifts and feels as if
it is organic in ways
that are metric, tantric, serpentine scales
unfolding always, everywhere like fast flowers,
mathematically abstractable molecules
of logical modules of the mind, man.
And that is the rain at night, in the summer,
when it is warm it is better,
in my opinion, for dancing in the rain,
but the weather always seems
to have a feeling of it's own
if you go
into the yard and forget where you are
and remember you're never not here
you might hear that rain
sing,
you might
hear a bird within
and the two might dance
like a breeze pushing forth
the more vague components
of the moment
and then violá:
you have gone and come back again
you have been all and there you are,
dancing, like a fool or a shaman,
who is to say,
dancing like either one
in the rain.
And if if you didn't see it, one can imagine,
and just by still-imagining,
imagining without action,
one feels as if one travels,
so just imagine when
dancing in the rain
and the whole beautiful myth
being real for a spell.
If that is not freedom,
innocent, harmless freedom,
then I don't know what is.
when the rain melts and bleeds
and sings and signals
the lines of shifts in the winds
of time for minute
the cat is in the box
and in the next
we are the ones
scratching at the walls
we ourselves built.
