Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.

Da, Damyata
Da, Dayadhvam
Da, Datta

Our Father...
Forgive us our trespass....
Lead us not into temptation....

Many of you may have a little Ted Hughes stocked beneath a florescent bulb or perhaps blocking open fictional or functional doors, or perhaps you snuggle it beneath a pillow in hopes that dreams may come and intuition strike its frightful middrif' blow.

I'm a strange person, and normality seems strange to me, but I have a deep seduction brewing between Shakespeare, Eliot, and I (Donne of course continues to poke his head in, asking for endowment or at least a lavish 'dressing).

I did not chance to catching a falling star- It was rape! A willing rape perhaps, at times; and at others I do feel a Colussus Plath in my path. I'm not one to play tricks. I'm playing as straight as the game allows and the rules of these words is they never tell the truth- I can only hint at- I can only point you in the direction- but, if you've come this far you've felt the prod too, haven't you?

Do you know the pain that shivers bones? Rudolph Rudolphovich spins the easy sell- Love is no doubt a beautiful thing but not without consequence. I wonder if he knew White Center was within him or if he felt Hugo sitting upon his shoulder? Da. Dayadhvam: And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. The intuitive solicitor spoke to your ear and did you even know? "I've written a sonnet! I've written a sonnet! screamed while taking coffee in a library....and did you even know? Did you feel it! Could you have known, that your words were my words to that woman whose attention held my pose?

Da. Datta: And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. Two souls entwined like roots of plants with will, To be but split shall kill them both in prime. And it must have been difficult to watch Guinevere thrusted towards Lancelot, Arthur. It must have been terrible to see the chalice slip, to see the petals rippled in another August's current. Oh Venus! clutching the sweet refrain of youth before that Perseptful tone drags her newly circumcised groin down to the depths.....you will never win Venus! Though you know this. It only makes your love more sweet, your lust more passionate, and every day is a countdown towards that inevitable kiss, that sweet zero summer, that blissful silence of nothing, absolute nothing, in which you no longer feed the earth and so Adonis gives back to you what is only his to give....and how unruly youth thinks of wisdom once we find we must die.

Da. Damyata. Our Father who ar't in Heaven, hallow it be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. And Rudolphovich, remember when we discussed ourselves amongst coffee and 'yevsky? Our problems were never the Fetzer. The root cause. "It's a cover up" you said and slapped the table and told me of God, that it was never up to you, that everyday was a humble humiliation. Those spirits are the same as these thick skins we cling too. The boar is that selfsame bottle of souls drowned in a flight from nothing. Absolute, serene, nothing. Nothing. And I humbly agreed to you, you saying "it's a cover up", knowing your death would be meaningful, knowing that indeed your life was walking a wasteland. And you shall walk through the shadow of the valley of death and fear no evil. And

Give.

And I must admit also,

Roberto,

Give us,

That you have always found me in the midst of an eternal nothingness,

Give us this,

midst an eternal nothingness in which light and darkness way the fulcrum,

Give us this day

and you've always kept me from having a choice to make

Give us this day our daily bread

As if the intuition that guides you, guides me too

Give us this day our daily bread
And forgive us our debts
as we forgive our debtors.


Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.