June 1, 2009 – Letter

Through most of the city’s old train yard Ba’aden had rambled on about the bicycle project ze’d been playing w/since B4 the Summer Solstice – when Cett found a pause long enough 2 gently break N w/a reference 2 some writing ze had seen the other toying w/a couple Nights past… though Ba’aden’s feet still carried hir, ze had stopped ½ way N the motion of cupping a lit match 2 hir cigarette ~ as if finding hirself suddenly encased by those very words… the rolled cigarette classically drooped off hir bottom lip 2 hang N defiance at gravity, the approaching fire from the match was what shocked hir bk N2 the present… shaking it out w/a small curse & pulling another from the book N hir shirt’s front pocket, Ba’aden shyly put the rollie bk N position & brought flame 2 it N hir usual rote fashion… after some familiar grounding techniques ze threw a SD long smile at Cett’s patient & silent curiosity – tasting the underlying hunger 2 learn why Ba’aden was yanked from the moment … … softly, an almost cooling Breeze lazily Danced across the sets of old rails, tugging at the scents of the Hobo fires which lived 4 their own sake N the Full Moon’s Light of the Night B4, hints of cheap wine, malt-liquor, & train grease mixed w/the coming Fall – – tires on pavement faded N & out on the small over-pass just ahead; from the other SD of a chain-link fence, some lone bkyard dog paced 2 & fro, sending solitary barks – like sonar – toward the gravel crunching steps of the friends strolling by – – the Sun began 2 sink N the Western Sky of a Summer 2 long hanging on… … Cett patiently rolled a cigarette of hir own 2 chase a shwill of the homemade Blackberry wine they’d brought 2 share at this month’s salon, where Arno Gruen’s The Betrayal of the Self was 2 B the catalyst 4 the evening… Ba’aden also partook N drink, waiting 4 Cett 2 light & pocket hir lighter – 1 Ba’aden hadn’t seen B4; typical, as Cett finally raised hir eyebrows N a wordless demand & Ba’aden steadied hirself 4 what had flowed out of those pages that Night; what was razed out of that moment’s blending of paper, ink, mind & Heart… a rising Wind, originating N Ba’aden’s core, N rhythm w/hir Heart, & woven by Throat, Tongue, & Mouth fueled the words which came forth… Cett looked N2 hir friend’s eyes 4 what felt 2B the 1st time, only 2 find hirself having 2 turn away – blinking out what ze could only describe as finding the Flames of the Phoenix there w/N… Cett had heard the words & ideas B4, by others & even expressed hirself – yet the radiance which lit the path, & nurtured this pattern of feeling & thought shortened hir Breath & charged hir Heart 2 the point that when ze found hirself held w/N the underbelly of the overpass, finding a seat became a necessity… the pyres sparked 2 life by Ba’aden’s Bird spiraled off N2 innumerable independent currents, each capable of nourishing & sustaining multiple branches themselves… when Ba’aden had come full circle, they sat N the calm of the Evening – Clouds began 2 form & enshrine the Blaze of a Setting Sun; on the Horizon, the muted blare of a train’s horn… after a moment, a sudden electricity popped through the air btx them just B4 the rails started 2 sing of an oncoming locomotive… as it’s beam of light rounded the far turn – Cett began N a clear but distant voice =

“Coyote throughout, moving as Cougar w/Fox N Mind & Wolf at Heart”

… amongst the approaching din of steel on steel Ba’aden turned, Cing N the reflection of hir friend’s eyes how the words were but 1 of the tumblers needed 2 open the gate 2 that fertile soil which lies N wait…