While the Monks were singing...

a box found, discovered, opened
a present, a recurring past
walking from the spillway at Gunstream
back towards the cabins, the boathouse
with a group of people, old friends, strangers
the sea levels falling
going back in time
a bridge now descending with the falling waters
a path into the middle of the lake
an island that wasn't there before
a house, a series of buildings
childhood homes and laboratories
something had been opened
a box found, a present
triggering a reaction with the past/ present
bubbling green ooze
the transformation of colors to bright orange
and then black
painting a wall, trying to clean up / hide
trying to dispose of the fluid
something feminine in it
the substance of Eros,
Desire
overflowing an urn
I am trying no to let it drip
taking it into the bathroom
contamination the water supply as it drips into the toilet
out in the street
the world is like a carnival
everyone possessed by the possibilities of the extraordinary
old friends from the bookstore walking on their hand in high places
I am not yet infected
or am utterly
the wisdom of women I have loved telling me so
the sense of reality unraveling
waking from the dream

in bed
ruminating
the story Han Chao Pass comes to mind
the gatekeeper
my grandfather taking me there as a child
seeing the Gate, the Wall
the Stories carved into it
what is beyond?
the Abyss

taking a drug that enables you to recreate reality
myself and another take it at the same time
two realities
everything in the power of the imagination
planets, galaxies, stars
universe, universes
expanding
and then the suffocating black emptiness of the Abyss
the failure of imagination
trying to remember if I am still holding the other's hand
vestiges of the reality before the drug
fading, now suspect
awakening

I pick up
In the Skin of a Lion by Michael Ondaatje
"I let a filthy mat of hair grow over my body,
 and donned the skin of a lion and roamed the wilderness."
opened at random
a man walking along hearing street musicians
beside a bridge
knowing he has only to hum to become a part
remembering when I was younger
my first experience of harmony
in a musical kindergarden
singing, I've been working on the railroad
flash to the motor of a music box
given to me years ago in an xmas stocking
just a couple of weeks ago
thinking of giving it as a present to someone else
turning the handle
trying to remember the tune
I've been working on the railroad
not knowing why, but deciding to keep it

remembering this
and the Gate and Han Chou Pass
and the first time I experienced Grace
at the Monastery of Christ in the Desert
while the monks were singing...