Feb 1, was Brigid of Kilare, and here now it is St. Valentine's so know,

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 Feb 1, was Brigid of Kilare, and here now it is St. Valentine's      so know,

St. Bride, John Duncan - 1913.jpg
St. Bride Carried By Angels, a painting by Scottish artist, John Duncan, 1913.

Virgin, abbess, inspirer
Bornc. 453
Faughart, Dundalk,[1][2] Ireland
(in modern County Louth)
Diedc. 525 (age 72)
Kildare, Ireland
Venerated inEastern Orthodox Church
Roman Catholic Church
Anglican Communion
Feast1 February
Patronagebabies; blacksmiths; boatmen; brewers; cattle; chicken farmers; children whose parents are not married; children with abusive fathers; children born into abusive unions; Clan Douglas; dairymaids; dairy workers; Florida; fugitives; infants; Ireland; Leinster, mariners; midwives; milk maids; nuns; poets; poor; poultry farmers; poultry raisers; printing presses; sailors; scholars; travellers; watermen



Saint Brigid of Kildare or Brigid of Ireland (Irish: Naomh Bríd; Latin: Brigida; c. 451 – 525) is one of Ireland's patron saints, along with Patrick and Columba. Irish hagiography makes her an early Irish Christian nun,[3] abbess, and foundress of several monasteries of nuns, including that of Kildare in Ireland, which was famous and was revered. Her feast day is 1 February, which was originally a pagan festival called Imbolc, marking the beginning of spring. Her feast day is shared by Dar Lugdach, who tradition says was her student, close companion, and the woman who succeeded her.
The saint shares her name with an important Celtic goddess and there are many legends and folk customs associated with her

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 so knowing 
     i love you & am devoted to you,

 to your love

to what makes you happy,

fills my heart
 warms my body
 ends the wars 

ends the wars around me




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the soul and the afterlife ...where so we go from here ?

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Who knows but life be that which men call death,

And death what men cal
l life?”

– Euripides, Phrixus, Frag. 830.








Souls flying back n forth/ diamond s ... onions... princesses and potatoes the godly soul the body the devoted husband.. 

what makes a soul happY/ Running Deer & Sitting Shiva


souls coming and going 


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Death or life or life or death
Death is life and life is death
I gotta use words when I talk to you

But if you understand or if you dont
That’s nothing to me and nothing to you
We all gotta do what we gotta do

Fragment of an Agon T.S. Eliot


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Nota Bene  

 

the only belief i  have 

    is in a rhizome democracy

 in all senses   & meanings  

 

 

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that being one of,

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 A little try out/ we did this last evenign in spite of my sore



  that being one of many songs, what can one say? it was your heart
   sprang on the night like sea came to storage with a wrench hammer

  came to conquer to pillage like a blessing thieving in the night,

  thriving perhaps like any common criminal running high without any license
  any commons to con-create the love which seeks its name


 for to say which its heart a petty fortune which opened the back woods
   of any benighted forest or empty rainbow of a castle



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  We worked on this for an hour or/two

      it went nicely/ i didnt listen to the recording/ i let what's his name do it,
       ill speak to the singer tonight/


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        One of many and none of one is what you are inside
        the glare of the gun
             the shattering of everyone
                    on that scaffold holding your peace you knew her time had come
                  she was starting out into space
                              she was looking into the divine 
                               holding out hoping she'd see something holy Veronica's face

                   I spit on Veronica I turned her outside in I was punished
                        thoroughly within for what I did I was sent to to the gallows
                            fed to the lions boiled in oil pilloried and chop-sueyed

                         I paid the price for my lady's Veronica's sacrifice
                               I was crucified sideways  looking off into the sidereal
                                      I am not the  lord of the dance 
                                            Not the lord of the dance am I 


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   How we do the/ this the 2nd part will be an interesting question! call it an understudy of what went before!


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Memoirs of a theologian Memoirs of a theologian Memoirs of a theologian Memoirs of a theologian





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 Memoirs of a theologian Memoirs of a theologian Memoirs of a theologian Memoirs of a theologian Memoirs of a theologian Memoirs of a theologian Memoirs of a theologian Memoirs of a theologian Memoirs of a theologian Memoirs of a theologian Memoirs of a theologian Memoirs of a theologian Memoirs of a theologian Memoirs of a theologian Memoirs of a theologian Memoirs of a theologian




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thee  multitude of christ the multitude of christ the christ of  multitude 


christ aviator  
masked goggles siting the view
  singing the rue


ascending into that upward sky



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as  i wrote in another poem

Christ resurrecting

Crashing through the molecules
 smashing the atoms 


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Aside from

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aside from that post about Miram waddington i've arrested Canadian poetry on it s potty funny spotty thing it is not tist but what tho thinkest fool !

say foool?

 saith fool!


 what voice which is greate without us! without  us the US border order/ ordure

   cant bang wings
        so touch wings
           match big things
        work your heart then steel your nerves but no ones got 'steel' nerves you might have stellar ones,
     but o.e.d. baby nobody but nobody has steel nerves, it's a contradiction in terms








Miss Lisa R Miss Liar called Not Miss lyre as I am she he who is Lyrie f nm  Oprheus squire 





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last l / 3 p/ f.h.


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                                                               Though I sang



                                                                                         in my chain

                              
                                                   like the sea







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last line fern hill (dylan thomas)

  3 parts

this to set to music with 

     B         &          H

    perhaps one bassoon 

           acoustic guitar

        3    voices

emphasizing the  'pedaling ' of the

voice within the line in its    ' 3 time '  measure  ?


Nota  1st 2 phrase contain a Vowel  word
  whereas phrase   'like the sea '   3 has none 

this same being a  like phrase (conductor line)  or   simile 


Also note the 3 S's 





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later Re ferry


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 Later, we dove to the bottom of Lake V. kale away my lovelies such sweet harbingers
   sewn by the seat of her pants, panties, fanny's,

  that's no good, what happened to the blog of the moment  in place of the revision machine?

   the revision machine is captialism's best friend? O work O protestant! Oethic of cracked goon!

       I remember sitting in some classes once of a famous poet

              until he went off sounding oiff about the virtues of revision

     as it were a sine qua non it must be,

     i needed whipering on a  comma,
          not a bird stirring, neither hawk nor robin breasted pluck chief,
           nor a darting marlet, no the apologetics of colour,

  but God in all thunder dark, furrorwing black, raging , the sky dark a s a dome inverted backside  a devil's make piece,

  then I went down to meet Ken Deck.. r. we had  a show to do, that was in early fall,

   the wankers from the village were not expected as the didactic pedantic anal retentive poestryworld
  could not handle music with poetry saying or suggesting at the very least that i was doing was less real or  important due to it,
and we'll continue this story when i'm between your arms

We took the ferry to...

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 We took the ferry to Victoria and sailed back on John's boat, he'd actually sailed once right
    down to Micronesia, quite the guy, lives on his boat pretty much all year round that's how it is on the West Coast/ East Vancouver

   the delight of early spring in the air, cherry trees near the trains in the culvert off Victoria  &
        Commercial drive


    More later, on the way,



_

You,


'rite spit


.





spit  the void


pistil  mountain

sloe-eyed sherpa
Basho? hermit mud

rause a light descend


therefore navels
      crystal fountain


rattle hedge to ledge


rain rain rainbows

pit void!

.