now--11/18(for my beloveds Jim and David)so how to love when hate rules the airwaves;how much to tell when truth brings danger?/no cave deep enough to hide the glitter, no gun powerful enough to kill all bigotry./ so why not give in to sensibility, turn off the dance music and resign to shrinking back into slavery, running up that hill to reach nowhere?/ so we are only sure of this existence--we act as if eternity is a given: no time like the present to return to the past, no blanket thick enough to cut the chill./ evidently we are too dumb to survive, too caught up in figuring it all out, rapt in expectation of rapture(taking that tour through the sewer)./ so love just sits there beaming, disco queens paint up to party; rulers measure only straight lines, fear rolls off spandex in motion./ how much to trust in balancing, how little to suffer from ignorance? namaste,goldenrod

now for L. Russell--hank, oh hank, oh pound them ivories/shake your head of snow-white wisdom, and get my ass on the dancefloor/ throw up hands in wonder and kiss some pretty strange soldiers./ asylum indeed, resting in madness/ eating salty candy all night long/ no wonder you stole my bay's thighs, no wonder i ate acid with you on the hit.
hank, oh hank, it's getting dark/clouds of ignorance harshin' our buzz, so i'll get up from here right now, put on my stetson and butt stompers, and go to lawton, oklahoma/ dare you to meet me there, old man, old wild wailing mystic and prophet, taking us back to the island again./ hank, oh hank, i wrote a song:  can i sit on your lap and sing it to you?namaste,brooks l.

now is day 7--strategy(from Starhawk)--oh man there is a battle of man-to-man-to-demon, and oh there is blood spilling, bad blood from ancient struggles. who will wear the laurel, who bow to kiss the victors; why tear up lives and dreamscapes, why not just reach out?/ oh man there is a hunger for touch and taste of honey; and there is joy waiting, pure joy from broken shackles. who will lead the tara, who rise to meet the lovers; why hurt to follow freedom, why not just be love?/ oh man i am an elder, worn wise and strangely stupid, and oh i do want holding, warm lips and strong emotion. who said youth is wasted, who dances, only slower,stronger? namaste,goldenrod

now is day 3--resurrection/insurrection (for L.Cohen)
the various undeterred arise, throwing aside shrouds of despair; clutching books and turquoise knives, they slip into the stinking City./oh soldiers of Jehovah, sisters of the whores of Orlando: waves against the crumbling breakwaters  take up the pledge of lovingkindness, stab to death the greedy bastards./the past is tasting like tomorrow--sticky sweet with amaranth, passed from tongue to tongue to heart, reshaping bitter thoughts into victory./oh poets of Golgotha, songbirds on a throbbing wire: teach the children ways to nurture, wean them from electric death./the ancient tombs of suburbia cast out the reawakened goblins dressed in worn-through denim, howling out the full moon hymns./ and She rises big-bellied; and we bow in humble wonder; and the blood flows just like Always; and the old ways sweep out the debris. namaste,goldenrod

now is 11/9-day one-(to a port-a-potty)finally the gate's ajar and it will all pour out in stinking dancing screaming streams of violence and uprooted energies:  so be the start of the next saga, the movement of the monstrous US.
witches squat along the moonroad, inscribe the pentagrams,incite the dark hearts into frenzy, invite the terrified to "Look HERE!"  for all our centuries of showtunes, of cowardly lions achieving valor eating little yapping environmentalists along the twisted forest paths, the coda to the finale rings out:  French horns trumpets tympanies--
we in the chorus catch a breath, expel a single "Om" and stretch to catch the light from the sunship and bounce it into the streets where children ignore the message, entranced by the medium.  at last we shall know just when the Wheel expelled the hypocrites, the Tower threw them to the Earth who absorbed their bones and atomized their empty hearts for recycling, the Fool leapt on out ahead, afraid of only staying put, waving and beckoning us to change and transform to undo this spell.  namaste,goldenrod