Welcome, all you strange ones
You who teeter on the edges of the unknown
You who feel the pulse of the earth under your skin.
Come, come see what dances along the borders of decay and creation,
Where the ego clings for protection
And the soul purges delight
Ah, the Monsuous Ecologies..
What are they?
A philosophy in fermentation?
A sensuous science for the sugar soaked?
Or beings who listen with their bellies...
Turning wounds into wisdom
and fruitful rot into art.
Why, they're a guide for the misfits, wobblers and tricksters
That thrive in the mysterious in-between.
They take shape from mud, from paper, from flesh
Where, in the heat of contact,
Mouths grow pupils and eyes learn to taste.
They say,
‘We know in our sinew,
We think through our fluids,
We reason in rhythm with our viscera
Oozing truth out of a world 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
So step forward,
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 that you carry,
The joy that longs to emerge.
Here, monsters are kin
They want to be seen
In all their messiness and contradictions.
Not born to threaten, but to teach us
How to play, how to feel
How to suck in the grief of the world
And spit out wonder.
