On the phone, at a gas station, in our dreams
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The mind is at birth a clean sheet, a tabula rasa, wrote John Locke, This column is yours. Sincerity, rather than writing skill, is the only requirement.
Milky Way Poems, Mike Rigsby’s newest is an extraordinary free flight, a rough riding, plain-spoken, sky-glider of a voyage through the strangest and often most terrifying of all universes we know the human mind itself.
I would like to comment on the article that you wrote in the issue of “Birth and Death,” that, to me, was the most timely subject at this point in my life. Being a widow, and separated from my children by hundreds of miles, I find that my new life has brought on new reconditioning.
After a lifetime of trying to deny it I am finally willing to concede that there are forces beyond human control at work in each of our lives. Whether you call it predestination, astrology, phrenology or simply Mother Nature getting back at us for polluting her environment and wiping out the Dodo Bird, the fact remains that Something is taking an unholy delight in amusing Itself at our expense.
There’s a bony finger pointed at me, and another, and another. Old spirits, dead but never gone, our living history, the crust we call our past — Dallas, Selma, Chicago, the other meat on the rack — their voices all stink and ridicule, over the chains and the fire: DON’T TRUST THEM, NOT AGAIN.
Citizen’s Band radio is the biggest thing to hit the market since television. It is also the biggest revolution in communications since the telephone. There are two main facets to this phenomenon — fad and function. Right now the fad has captured almost everyone’s attention: in the long run, it’s the practical potential for CB that’s mind boggling.
Once in the Jurassic, about 150 million years ago, the Great Sun Buddha in this corner of the Infinite Void gave a great Discourse to all the assembled elements and energies: to the standing beings, the walking beings, the flying beings, and the sitting beings — even grasses, to the number of thirteen billion, each one born from a seed, were assembled there: a Discourse concerning Enlightenment on the planet Earth.
This is a book praising freedom. If you are released (by will or by grace) from one illusion and do not fly immediately into the long arms of another, where are you? Partially you are remembering, solidifying your foundation: and partially you are interpreting, as accurately, as quickly as you can, the spaces that fall in all directions about you: “I stand in the half light:/ one leg, one arm,/ an eye.” (from poem “Goodbye”)
My academic career was in ruins. I had just been expelled from McDonald’s University having been caught in lewd acts with Ronald McDonald, that depraved clown. Frankly, I had not enjoyed McDonald’s University. I did well in hamburger class, however I found the ambience highly impersonal. Earlier, I had been booted out of the University of Miami, where I was a sailing major just unable to get port and starboard straight. Also, I had run over a lady with a Sunfish.
The drawings from this selection are available as a PDF only.