Archive for February, 1987


Tuesday, February 10th, 1987

People just 'making' things to validate themselves...
   dancing to give expression to technique,
      making funny faces in the mirrors which reflect us,
         as if art was technique and fad was prediction.

When you begin to close your hands on her waist, then you know.
   When you fingers press and feel her give of warmth and nakedness
      and you begin to smell her hair....

She is not marble or manikin nor is she abstraction or posed.
   Your hands tell you she is real and your feelings sing of it.

And what you feel fills and emptys you like the wheat-fields and the seasons.
   This is the music of mortality and the whisper of infinite mystery.

Let them paint their rocks, dance their techniques and worship idols,
   I will drink at this fount.

10 Feb 1987

— Copyright 1965-2010 by Dennis Gallagher —

1987-02-14 Snap Shots

Saturday, February 14th, 1987

Years ago, I remember driving across the Arizona desert
   and seeing four or five people wearing white sack-cloth
      and walking in the hot sun on the side of the road.

I passed them but turned around and went back driven by curiosity.

They said they were just walking and praying and letting Jesus provide for them
   in every moment ... in every step in the hot sun.

And again in Yosemite in 1972, there was a blond girl from Berkeley
   doing summer service for the National Parks System.
I can see her eyes, her idealism, her uniform....

Moments.   People making a statement in person or on paper.
Flash!  Indelible moments - a deep impression of power and synchronicity.

The book Open Marriage,
   the ideals of the 1960's,
      the beauty of Krishnamurti.

Like pictures cast, solid and whole, onto the waters of time
   they move and shimmer as the river moves
      and finally they dissolve and disappear.

We each, arising from the womb and marching to the grave,
   are a sequences of images strobing against time.
The material side of what we are here for
   is so insignificant.

I remember a bum in Seattle who begged some money from me;
   and all the time his eyes were laughing at my perceptions.

3-14 Feb 1987

— Copyright 1965-2010 by Dennis Gallagher —