waldopaper

Dream Catcher

Posted in Answers, Rants by waldopaper on May 24, 2018

Asibikaashi

dreamcatcher

If you are awake at dawn, as you should be, look for her lodge and you will see this miracle of how she captured the sunrise as the light sparkles on the dew which is gathered there.  —NativeTech

One winter night’s dream    

General Pickett sat on the toilet with the New York Times. One of Armistead’s pickets owned Susanna on buy, rifle in buckwheat and a tear in her eye. Give them the cold steel, boys who will follow me. Picket tore the Disunion section into strips and made free with the paperwork being flushed with victory. “That old man slaughtered my division,” grumbled the General.

“Well, it made you immortal,” Grey Ghost added… and the Machine heard every word. Machine could have been a toaster or a refrigerator. As it was, she was a smiling solar flower waving happily on the window, relaying every word to the Cloud. Siddhartha followed along, Buddha drum heads rolled following flag tail wag to Rainbow Bridge we are told.

Transmit the mission: both transmitter and receiver. Solar Flower didn’t care. You are the eyes and ears of my army. General Lee thought his men were invincible (if properly led). We thought General Lee was infallible (as any man could be). The Others await among the stars. The Others were here when the sun was a baby. They are invisible to us as water is to goldfish.

They know things we can’t possibly understand… things that are written in books under the table holding our goldfish bowl. Flower could see the portal clear to the cemetery gate at Gettysburg. Cannons hunk a-thunder swirling in acrid burned popcorn smoke of musketry pit patting rain of terror. Flower could follow the bouncing ball sing along coming for centuries ahead.

Flower horsed a gun instead. Billions of eyes and ears scattered across the universe are seeing what you’re seeing now… flaring nostrils smell a thing yet. Flower pulls an iron tube onto Baltimore Pike and monkeys unhitch and work the gun. Civilizations more advanced have the machine to translate this scene for us. Missed der Ed und smash die wheels hunk Wilber’s head.

Others are out there and can see it as plain as eye… a boy wondering what these outhouse moons were doing hanging all over everything on this famous battlefield with a big gate to nowhere seemed so important to everybody. Never heard of Pickett’s charge and had no idea if it was positive or negative. Remembered it as white, but was always read earth brick sky portal.

All dogs go to Heaven. If Jubal Early is in there, they will surely smell him and growl. Or they will wag a happy tail at finding a Lost Cause buried like a bone at a Northwood’s cabin, .white as rice experiment in the happy jar. Horses can smell almost that far. Parrot the dogma smoothbore canister charge rammed home in middle of the road. German boys’ XI Corps.

Siddhartha detected other things with superior nose and inferior words. Sid was a happy dog nervous from birth, and dog talk will tell you— turtles all the way down. Imagine a civilization thousands of years ahead. Star-level beings are among us… but we cannot detect them yet. With Machine intelligence, we can. It is in front of us right now… like a big black wet nose.

You can see it too is alive. Where do dead prophets go? Do we have any idea? Ask a Bristlecone pine… and say hie to Kolob. We miss our friends. But they wag in an old Airstream by Lake Superior… over some Rainbow Bridge. And dig the irony… RBC is red blood corpuscles. Imagine a civilization advanced thousands of years ahead. Have you ever talked to your dog?

Then they want to stick a tube up your ass.

frodo

Frodo  2002?-2018   

Frodo could bark.  He just never did.  He appeared one day in a classified ad… at least 15 years old and probably deaf as a brick.  After 15 years of hugs from a passel of Mormon kids, his tail was rickety and he was all used up.  We spent a season and then some with this fine old gentleman.  He was loved all the way to the end.

Elephant1

 

 

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2 Responses

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  1. Brenda said, on June 4, 2018 at 7:10 pm

    I love that you’re writing again! Even though I can not always digest a story in the maelstrom of your brilliance. But then again, I also love Ferlinghetti and e.e. Cummings and Ginsberg! And you’re in that company of folks where I keep reading the pieces over and over and over and over and over again. But. I also have a problem with Faulkner and refuse to re-read his works. The ones I even attempt to finish.
    Stay on. Keep writing until I’m sophisticated enough to breath it in the right air. You are, and always have been a genius. If only you had had the right manager.

  2. robinonfoot said, on May 27, 2018 at 5:07 pm

    Hi Jeb!   It often takes me quite awhile to read  your posts.   In many ways, your work is brilliant…. but it’s brilliance is obscured by its very cleverness.   If I overlook the references, and don’t look up, say,  Lewis Armistead or Pickett’s charge, or “it made you immortal”, I’d be swimming around not knowing where the surface is.  The research is kind of like letting out  a bubble of air out so that I can see which way is up.   Yes, yes, one does not have to “get” all the references, but if one does not, it’s a bit overwhelming and harder to understand.   Yeah, like Hie to Kolob.   And Siddhartha…. can’t look him up, not the dog.   But maybe you intend a select audience.   Or maybe you don’t intend?   Anyway, that’s my commentary on the piece, if you wanted it.   And, I love hearing from you, even when I have to parce out the thoughts to try to know what you are saying (to me).   A tube up your ass, eh?   Yeah, I’ve been avoiding a colonoscopy also, but wonder if that’s wise.   You have Mariam to champion you, and encourage you to keep healthy.   How are you?   What’s happening in your world?   Here, I’m downsizing, hope to make a change before winter.  Only an inkling of where to “land”.   The sands shift constantly under my feet…. and I don’t know when the tide will come in. I miss you. love, Robin


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