I was standing in the street of a mythical new york when life was first palpable

What we are and why we're here: the universe requires us as in interim stage, on its way to being so dense with immediate information that matter and energy are the same as now and is. We're how the universe needs to heal itself of the Big Bang. We're a means. And yet one consequence of being here at all is surely pleasure,

both the obvious sort where sexual whomp meets sexual oomph and the small, sweet fires kindle in the skin; and also a quieter kind: I came across my friend Giselle on her front porch, with a red wine, in a sprinkle through her shade trees of the carmelized light that happens at the end of certain autumn days, she was saying, repeatedly, salvo,zephyr,seiche,volute,marooned, for no good reason except the joy of it. And Sadness,

too, is what we do- if "we" is homo sapiens and "do" is make kinetic some potential in our spooled up lengths of neural combination. Not just "sadness"... sometimes complex grief, that requires a connoisseur to explain is undertang and swirled, archaic bite. Once, when I saw Wes on his knees in a back yard weeping at the night and pawing dirt, I knew he was on an island, needing rescuing..."marooned" indeed.

So tell me we're a handy state of carbon for transmission of genetic DNA...okay; but also we're repositories and dynamos of an amazing human whoosh of whizbang energy and elegy. It may be why I've always liked the aura radiated out of alternate use. You know: the sewage pipe that, knocked on, is a signaling device for POW's. The bucket: a helmet. The Child: a bucket to bail excess Love a couple otherwise would drown in....

-ag The Aura

Peace