KNB wanted very much to work with me, so I made a late appointment on an evening that I already had scheduled earlier work.
When she arrived I noticed she was quite pretty through the face. I liked her immensely. She was witty intelligent, and understanding of the project. We smoked quite a lot of weed together after making the initial drawing, and then went to the pile of words to finish the piece.
Words were drawn randomly from the pot, in groups. I would call out to her, "Pick 5 words", and then she would read them to me after a little arranging first to give it the most meaning. "Pick 7 words". Neither she nor I wrote the poem, though I did the writing on the drawing. She assisted, and drew the words from the inexhaustable supply.
Sometimes the words made no sense at all so I would exploit the alliterative facility to round them into meaning.
In a few instances where there was a word that K___ just didn't understand, I'd let her draw another.
In the middle of the poem there's a comment, "Daddy needs his smoke."
We got up to go smoke!
This was an incredible moment, I felt I had tapped a reservoir of meaning, all knowledge, all that was original. I also felt that there was a limitless flow - the only danger was that the crude radio I've devised to tune this energy in, would somehow fail, or drift off station, and that I would never hear this voice again.
Here are my thoughts on meaning:
Aesthetic after observation / He said it after observation
[Observe her first - then apply an aesthetic. Observation might lead to an aesthetic ideal being false or worse, ugly. Aesthetics, or the philosophy of beauty and art, may be viewed as scientific theories, indulged until facts emerge that prove them wrong, or, make them unwearable. She's saying, if you use aesthetic judgements, make genuine observations first. So we expand understanding by pulling on the tight fitting clothes of our theories.]
"Think, feel subject, follow no hate"
[This is yogic universal love. Study, and love, but follow nothing motivated by anything less than love. So far so good.]
"Night appears Pregnant"
]How could the divine feminine be anything but pregnant? The existence of all existence is born in the Divine, and conceived within her.]
"Sculpt, assist her, then health, clever character the finger, must thou impression."
[I seem to be getting the advice go with my own hands as an implement of creation.]
"Mother is like Peace, like angry wild howl. Paint my differences."
[Paint all the faces of Kali. Love all aspects of Her.]
When it came time to assign her initials to the work, I asked K____ what her real name was. She was incredibly surprised the reading had spotted her lie.
She told me her real initials, LB reluctantly. I wrote it in.
LB wasn't willing to lie to Her.
[How am I changing the words? The poem is sound, silly sense arranges to thought, if emanating from a light producing activity. Right wood, right ghee. Think right thoughts, hear right sounds.]
