Email Me Pointing to the Moon

Not Knowing

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March 15, 2008

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Ole_Ship

All That Anonymous said... ..I said;
Setting Bearings in flight of "The Eagle" to "place to land", pointing back at the moon.

The path of search was cleared as the computed clock reset; how I came across "The Eagle", I'm not sure I can retrace.
On to stream of that wind, I found this site in my serach from The Museum Of Robyn Hitchcock to the Link of "Poetry is in the Restaurant" and the poem appealing is called "WHEN TIME ARRIVED"

Once I could see time coming:
A speck, a distant puff where the far tracks merged,
A mirage on the shimmering plain,
Time was heading our way
But hadn't reached us yet.

Here on the platform the fresh machines
Stood by the stationmaster they would soon replace.
He held his fob watch, in the past, flicked open
To reveal the clockface virgin and unactivated,
Time like Venus in her shell.
I see his face all made of meat
And satisfied, turning to the east,slowly turning.
And you, too young to move, your skin would now seem a baby's
You held my hand.
You could have held it harder.

Then time was upon us. Everything unfroze,
Swapped places, jittered as the beast pulled in
Past the white signal box that already housed only tomatoes.
Did time stop then?
Certainly, it slowed down, braked a shrieking steel bray. Up in the cab
The driver's eyes were wired,
His mouth a grim horizon I could see
Till steam embraced us.
Doors opened, expectant figures thawed into motion and vanished through them,
Noone alighted. Thank God you never said goodbye.
The staionmaster blew his whistle, as if he could control all this.

Time didn't stop and never will while we are men
And women with seasonal stomachs
Dialed by the moon.
The steam dispersed, to show time accelerating,
Leaving us faster than it came. And time
Grew baldness on the station master
Gave the machines confidence
Took you from me but left your echo;
And time is so remote now in the setting sun
That tonight, as the red moon wobbles over rusty rails,
I fancy it has stopped at last.(from May 21, 2008 10:18 AM) and...
...after drifting across a few links, I may move on to my wordpress but leave this

Steven Smith

Choosing with the heart needs be a literal thing, not a metaphor. One must be able to feel and hear one's heart beating to do it, to choose with the heart.

It can be cultivated, and it's tough.

tom

why did you stop posting? non-dualist blogs are rare. some great quotes here.

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