Reed Bye: THE ADVANTAGE OF ORIENTING GENERALIZATIONS

Spring '06 TOC

When I was in power; holding donations. Proud of the line-up. Someone and his wife ran all the
way round the bathroom sink and down into the drain. A view of blue objects still settled there.

*

Heidi lapped it up under the borders. I've outfitted her with a seat and rope. Paddled an early ice-
flow for a lark. Anselm and others were already at the lodge after meeting with organizers. I'd
taken a call for Keith asking where the Zen writings on swordfish might be and if we had set up a
press release.

The bay was still semi-coagulated but the season and weather said to be "bonny." I wonder when
we'll get our skiffs on the water again?

Past the mat a lively trifle went to mental depth; a dark shaft that allowed the ore to sparkle as
paragraphs. Sifting past those who loved noise was a one-time curtain-puller. Never mind the
source or limit. Executive rooster runs these streets.

*

A dark gavel's momentary recess–alloyed fantasy trip-switch prongs on bastions rife with
trilobites. Don't be, sad notion, so sky-sized; it's all the shades you fell in after blushing. Small
entries with large caveats. Time will lead, sound follow; along the way, books.

*

Going too fast down a mountain road–patches of snow–can't brake hard because of skidding.
A long line of other car lights coming up. Doing OK staying on my side until I catch the sloping
right shoulder and sail off high into the air. The car reaches the top of its trajectory and then
begins to fall straight down. I stand free as it drops into a deep cavern at the top of a hill.
Looking down into it, no sign of my car.

*

Lowering through the rock shaft with Georgia and Layla, strumming the guitar before getting
back in the car, sleek black tail of Abert's squirrel disappears over the dirt graded at the shoulder.
Miss Chickadee whistles; "Nice going, Jerk,"implied. Can't give up now whatever the
depressants.

*

Something heavy. A gold smile. Rolling away. Two good teeth remaining. Fanaticism and its
contents. You order a green peppermint with a little Akua. Last shot: Heidi's bouncing rump
hightailing up Nicholl Street.

II.

Implementation and oversight neglected. George needs her porridge. Tigger the sentinel all
night. Dogs on the perimeter, no marauders. Light and sun all the way now. "Daylight in the
swamp!"

Plans coming together. Outlook: simple direction. Speech: no explanation. Guns turned away
from the playing field inside its deep embankments.

*

Was there or was there not a board room and why do my hands now smell of its stain?

*

In the margin below saturation a probe contacts bliss depth sediment. This declivity includes a
temporary pass to Butterfly Park. Air sitting up in song. Reversed cantilever, Polish parapets,
gathering strength from the world's foundation. Apparently no cause for clamor, recall notices
absorbed. Blank foolscap. Stuck in many places above and below. Science sunk in circumstance.

Not to pop up in time means no new intrigues–the tail has slipped through the door. Soon to be
inside the tub with a tube from the hopper that sorts and tags ears.

*

A range of melancholy instrumentation arrayed to give the feeler the pretense of longing sadness.
Scratching and aping desperation. Scraping phony statistics off an I-beam. Braces of doves play
and splay. A corner is left provocatively unglued; he could have easily tucked it in. A broke-up
party was all that was left to reclaim wraps and feel the bruises. Those signs actually did arise
and some experienced gentleness when falling asleep.

*

What next? Reeling up an old fishing boat on a line and pole, mottled as the roof of the
Superdome. What is our response to entropy? Sadness. What is the meaning of happiness? A line
and a pole. Uncontrollable winds; inhospitable windows.

*

No trace. No tracks. Someone's name inscribed briefly. The wish to leave a record. Two lives?
What part of this life lives in my heart? What quality the sadness for caribou these thirty
thousand years? Days are numbered. I too want an indomitably cheerful disposition.

*

In multiple symbols come mental hard times. Now the glorious day, birds hopping on the pine-
tops and the orchestra silent in red velvet cases. My heart thrills again to the silence which wide
awake was never lost but now flourishes in rays and color. What is to be gained beyond notice.
Occluded or unfolded in naked view who can hear crying must allow a dish. Chickadee again,
this time in firs.

*

Present occupation determined by ten-year old flower delivery. Some group like a pattern of
hogs, coming from work to the games. A back log, a nose jam. Get out there and sort it.

*

Swimming up from depths unholy things–could they be answers? Otherwise completion of our
data analysis will have to wait for a new cure via donors.

And waking up, involves? The drum in which putrid water turns. Come to life; open eyes and
nostrils. The churning sediment. No partner's ability to work the crane offers a more basic
fallacy: I can't hear you.

*

Rarely a thread let alone a skein back into the cave. Minimum light for phantasms. How can one
take care of everything? Bring the dark unruffled, smooth as caramel. A school with strange thin
animals roaming its yard and a butte of sand looming just across the street. The children,
interested and kind, scooter on a floor below the rails.

*

Master plot dog-eared beside its dreamer. Do not think these boys and girls are free for one
minute, tops. The truth is it takes one to know one. We are all frustrated with others for
exhibiting what we grow ourselves. Pass the dictionary down by the jet-skis. Approach the
witness stand now with perfumed confidence. These dreams we will not wake from.

*

There were dreams but I could not wake them. A preposterous filter clogged with stuff. What
other atmosphere is available? What is left after what is taken in? Strange dollars? I scratch my
empty case and feel it moving in my hand. On course the mind is beautiful things; the road is a
bumpy vehicle.

:: TOC ::

Not Enough Night
Not Enough Night
© 2012 Naropa University