Seeking the old kingdom of quiet he enters the hall
and takes a seat. Takes,
as in a time, the occupying tendency, as enters might mean plunge. "It's
a halo glow from a filmic descent of icons over Los Angeles." This
is one way to say practice, practice. This is one way to show distance.
There's a notion to sitting of progress, but the
years go by as
separate breaths. Or the years go by and the breathing continues.
Who is he to demand a sense of achievement? We live in dreams which are next to other dreams.
Hegel suggests the swirl, the upward thrush flying
always to the celestial nest. Is there a we in a universe
of atoms? Let's start with specifics: autumn weekends, refuge,
asses, the lotus meaning/labeling of mind.
The film motif turns out to be
herring, a fishy way of employing drift. But then
it's conflation, a girl's life with his own, the odd sense of
arriving here or there in a how town. Buddhas, yes, and preconceptions,
the now some liquid amber turning gold against the Gotham residue
of a courthouse, counting bricks.
We count thoughts but they don't turn into
kingdoms. A dove-cote of possession so says Plato. We have ideals
but they don't turn
into achievement. The labeling "if I'm lucky" is a way
of seeing progress. It's just Los Angeles, twenty workers in a
fidgeting. Slow mudra walk, twenty pigeons on the sill. . .
"The head is connected to the neck which
is an ass, there being a primal magic
to the spine." He thinks of this as his vestigial tale,
as impending sex or past lives. There is enough here to say we are delicious, people try real hard.
Let's forget Hegel and assume practice. Taking a
seat is a good picture of work. The capital we fund
is the building across the way. It's Doric in the way your neighbor
is Doric, standing in his yard supporting
Your neighbor nods on her cushion. Angels, the city, angles. It's
a quiet you just might buy. He tries this out as Sunday. His left
hip aches from the weight. Despite the static from the film, the
pigeons, this trying turns out to be.