Monday, May 31, 2010

Stranded At The Bus Stop

I will bet I first used the image of “waiting for the bus” as a part of my spiritual walk back in the seventies. My first big image was how I snuck into the mansion by the back door, the one used by the legitimate servants. I was not a servant, not appointed to any position. I just got in, perhaps even a thief. When you spread your spiritual wings out far enough to see the larger landscape, you discover many stories told quite seriously about this. There is a role for the Thief in the Kingdom. Prometheus stole fire for men, as an example. He paid the price but also is still remembered as an essential player in the realm. Hermes is the God of Thieves. Thieves have a God. The First Nations have a figure, perhaps Crow, or Jay, or Coyote, who displays this kind of trait. Hermes is not only a support for thieves, he is the Messenger. This means that anyone who aids in communications has a relationship to thievery through Hermes, the God of the Message. That sobers me up a little. These poems steal as well as standing as gifts.

I snuck in the servant’s entrance. Along with that, I say I made a decision to prove a point in an argument with God, why I have come, but how I got here, the bus let me off and I have been waiting ever since for it to come back and pick me up. I am sort of deflated. I think I will die waiting.

Stranded At The Bus Stop

I sit on this bench
here at the bus stop waiting
hoping for the bus
to come and worried
if this transfer is still good
or now out of date,
too old, me too old,
so even if the bus does
come it won't be mine.

June 2, 2009 9:16 AM


  1. When he poked
    his finger in my back
    I snapped my head around and bit
    down into the fetid air, so hard
    my teeth cracked

    I won't do that again :)


    You have always been on the bus my friend.


  2. There are buses and other buses. If I am on the bus, have always been, that is a much bigger bus, the one just beyond all stories. This bus beyond the stories is the bus you can't easily call a bus without risking too much delusion in the picture, I think.

    That is like if you reach high enough in the realm you can no longer give God any particular name, not so much because it is wrong to name God, but because at that point it is wrong to exclude other True Names and the names must all be pronounced in the same moment without separation or else the symphony falls short.

    The bus, the soul transportation of which I claim a special relationship is a conveyance within the realm of story. This is the realm where magic resides and God has fruited into many shapes and names and you can not only argue but romp and wrestle as well with Him. I am told He makes lovers pregnant here too. Ummm. Sometimes you may have some explaining to do later.

    Oh yes, sometimes when God is fully masculine we are all women.


The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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