Welcoming, strange ones
those who teeter on the edges of the unknown
Come and see what dances on the borders where decay and creation kiss,
Where the ego clings for protection
And the soul purges a delight
Who or What are they?
A philosophy in fermentation?
A sensuous science for the sugar soaked?
Or simply, beings who listen with their bellies,
Turning wounds into wisdom unfurled
and fruitful rot into art.
They're a guide for the misfits, wobblers and tricksters
That thrive in the mysterious in-between
Taking shape from clay, from paper, from syrup
Where, in the heat of contact,
Mouths grow pupils and eyes learn to taste.
They know in their sinew
They reason in rhythm with viscera
Oozing truth from a body unrestrained
They’re an art of living, living-through,
A place unruly and moist with meaning
Where the body remembers what the mind explained away..
Take the first step
Let the wild cultures in,
Gaze into their eyes, three, maybe four,
Perhaps a reflection of the world inside you
The tendril you pull from your mouth,
The pain you carry,
The joy that longs to emerge
Let the old, stuck stories come pouring out in clumps
crude and misshaped,
to form the compost pile,
which one day, will create the garden you haven't yet imagined
Here, monsters are kin
They want to be seen
In all their messiness and contradictions.
Born not to threaten, but to teach us
How to play and how to feel
How to suck in the grief of the world
And spit out wonder.