Feathery Crept Krogens In Gelatinous Meniscus

And feathery crept krogens under the sea as gelatinous swirled the meniscus-slop -  Brine drip and sluice round the planet in a bulge of starfish - spicules and suckers - rippling the lip of the shore and spindrift circling above -  A great carrack rock stuck up out of the ocean and the krogens slithered onto it and started the infinitely slow process of evolution - from mollusc to man - 

The Brain It Reigneth Every Day

Glawak yn Kernow yw - Rain splashes on the Shyre -  
mixing with the ocean at Pensanskrit prom where waves break onto the drizzly grey flagstones and seals bob up and down in the waves - a mother teaching her pup to swim -  Herrings shoaling in and mists and mizzles settling in for the foreseeable -  Fisherfolk swarming - parading - spying out to sea with spyglass for the Spanish fleet - and dreaming of sunnier days of summer back in New Lynsmouth where processions swarm the piers of the harbour where once a great scuttling of crustaceans took place and a great rattling of carapaces was heard throughout the land -
The music of rain was the constant song now and the rattling of wind in the roofs and gables - the old towne was battening down for winter and keeping a weather-eye out for the weather -  Gulls ruled the sky and starfish slept deep in pools of glassy green sea-water under fathoms of brine -   Here too lurked Lepadogaster lepadogaster - also his cousin - Lepadogaster purpurea - The Cornish Sucker -  The Puffer-Fish shuddered and went off in a huff -  

An Morvil Kornek

In Moonlight

The scribe-s house was deep in the high moorland country which dominates the very tip of Britain-s most westerly shyre -  The lane which led to it twisted its way between high Cornish hedges - some of which contained massive block-work redolent of the mystic Bronze Age -  The scribe walked this lane one moonlightful night alone in the bright radiance that glazed the countryside all about -
  The lane snaked along the side of a valley - its high hedges following the natural contours as if it was originally built to defend the valley -   After some time and a brief glimpse of a fox out hunting he finally caught sight of his house bathed and dappled in moonlight -
  It was a large - rather Gothic and curiously ancient house - set alone and aloof in its isolated enys - its patch of rugged and empty moorland -  He had bought it for its solitude - its considerable distance from any other habitation -   For a writer needs a certain amount of solitude and here he could truly write -  What-s more the conditions on that particular night were perfect as there was nothing that stirred his imagination more than a full moon -  like the one that at that moment was shining in through the many windows off his ancient abode -   After taking a moment to brew tea he proceeded to the centre of his kingdom - the large mahogany table in front of the window through which he could view the spacious lawns and topiaries of the rather formal but deeply enchanting garden -
  A slight mist shrouded the shrubs and anointed them in glistening jewels of moisture - Whisps of atmospheric fog drifted over the lawns looking sometimes like clouds - sometimes like figures or fauns -  He picked up his pen to write - moved by the scene in front of him and its haunting atmosphere but even as he did so he seemed to swoon and spin into a blissful trance - a reverie or species of dream-vision or seeing -
  The crystal-glass paper-weight before him gleamed with untold and unusual clarity and it seemed the glare and glister was enmeshed somehow with his own mind and self and he himself was becoming crystalline and clear in feel and mind - as if the clarity of the crystal in the moonlight was transferred to his own perception thereby clarifying it and making it pure as clean water -
  He stopped - drew breath - stared in wonder - the pen dropping from his hand and clattering quietly to the table -  He let go and felt no need to fathom the cause of the feeling or seek explanation but rather merely he kept to a quiet stillness and rapturous flowed the time around him -
  The moments as mere pebbles in a stream or fluttering birds of the air - glazed and joyous he sat rapt and rapturous in a symphony of curious happiness -  And if such was so strong and real and true he mused it must have been there all along -  This he did not so much think as wordlessly intuit and know in his heart - 
  A cathedral of moonbeams illuminated the room and bounced and glittered from a thousand and one shiny glints hither and thither -  The still beauty of the moon had crept stealthily into his domain and wafted him into a deep samadhi state -  Joy and wonder are one really -  They brimmed over in him and he gazed before him as the seer of a new world --
  Knowing this to be the nature of beings he was content -

Things Fly By Night

By night they fly and flitter - It has always been so - Nobody can stop it - By night these things will always flitter - 

ΣΕ ΓΕΛΑΣΑΝΕ - ΣΤΡΑΤΟΣ ΠΑΓΙΟΥΜΤΖΗΣ, ΜΑΡΚΟΣ ΒΑΜΒΑΚΑΡΗΣ - 1941

Παπαϊωάννου & Περπινιάδης - 

Είσαι γυναίκα του μπελά

Seas Sail Strange

Flashes of light in the sky - Cloud-formations looming up - Things in the sky and things on the wind - Seas sail to strange shores and the cosmos throws out strange new forms - 

The Dream Flows Awake

Come in my friends - come on in and take a seat in this Platonic cave of dreams and colourful illusions and chimeras - The luminous liquidescent resinous flow of Rebetiko fills the air - 
This music that is all soul - all Muse - all dance with 9 beats to the bar and thousands of years of culture in the measure - Dripping liquid amber in the voice of Stratos Pagioumtsys and the hands of Vasilis Tsitsanis scatter magic sprinkling dust over the stings of his ebony Olympian bouzouki - These sounds of the soul speak uniquely of a time and place Greek - resplendent in the sun dappled drowze of yesteryear-s 30-s phonograph pine-cone past -  Rippling silver strings drizzle drips of fine treble notes amongst the collected warblings of the Kompania -  The group swoops into song - climbing the irregular pavement of nine steps - ascending to the exalted heights - the fields in the sky -  the golden fields - 

ΜΕΣ' ΤΗΝ ΠΟΛΛΗ ΣΚΟΤΟΥΡΑ ΜΟΥ -

ΣΤΡΑΤΟΣ ΠΑΓΙΟΥΜΤΖΗΣ - 1938 

Old Fish In A New Kind Of Water

DREAM ALL ABOUT IT - LATEST FROM THE OTHER SIDE - THE CATERPILLAR DUB - AN ANTIDOTE TO CONCEPTUAL JOURNALISM - AVAILABLE EVERYWHERE SIMULTANEOUSLY - THE ONLY PAPER THAT TRULY TELLS IT LIKE IT IS - 
Written in light in the space between the atoms of solid conditioned quotidian reality - A yelp from the forest at the edge of town where the wilderness begins -  The drip of rain on the back of a fish - An echo of the explosion that gave birth to the sun and stars - The primordial rush - a pocketful of stardust - a rustle - a hustle and bustle - It-s the Dub!  It-s the Caterpillar Dub and it-s available everywhere now!

Rippling through the aether - - -

A Turbid Colourless Viscous Solution

Back in the wilderness at last - when a raven circles round and round overhead cawing you know you-re in the right place - Where else is there to be but nature ~

Luminous Runs The Mind

Ineffable and vast is the insubstantial consciousness that holds the centre of everything that is and isn-t - 
Built upon particles that disappear into mere pulses of luminosity - solidity is nowhere to be found - awareness shines through and upon everything - physicality the final illusion as matter melts into mere mind and thought dissolves into naked awareness - 

Glorious Tewlwolow Vision

Ten luminous Earth-years rumbled by as the transmissions continued to emanate from the abstracted whirling antennae of the larval and carapaced entity known to me only by the nomenklatura of The Caterpillar and these atom-rippling mysteries did indeed sparkle bright and glitter ever before me - enticing me on to realms of glittering light - of shining harmonies and districts of molten energy that lurk in those unimaginably vast and unfathomable gulphs between the atoms of structural matter - 
On other and many another divers voyage across the watery globe in pursuit of the shining waters and the shimmering seas and all that they hid and held hasped in their samfire-grasp I wandered forth distracted and dreamy-footed I stumbled out upon the Spanish Main to chew cactus-buds with vultures for my companions and spit the golden pips at the bones of the bleached buffaloes wallowing in the dust of nothing on a blistering day of droning flies and rippling glistening heat - As such I followed my feckless feet and set pen to ink and paper to fire in a frenzied attempt to warm my gelatinous skeletal frame - I clutched at a spy-glass with grizzled hand and spun it out towards the land - the land I saw was golden dust with glimmering hedge-rows of autumn-s rust - I rattled on in country-clogs and ate the miles up under me - 
I thought I could make out the Caterpillar scuttling on ahead - always ahead - and ever disappearing round the next corner or behind the next tree - 
I-d been on the trail of that glorious beast for many a year now and had had only but the fleetingest and most ephemeral of encounters with this great abstract being - this conduit of cosmological diamond-dust - I was determined to catch up with the rattling crustaceous body of him and find out what the blazes it was all about and all!  
Well way back in 1911 The Caterpillar transcribed the journal of Elias Gillpington which in turn mutated into the Gothic novel The Kramvil which is itself the root-cause of The Buxtereide Prize For Literature - one of the most far-reaching - successful and well-known literary prizes in the entire world of West-Cornish Surrealist Collage-Journalism - 
Well - with a track-record like that it only now remains for me to introduce yous to The Caterpillar himself - but that-s just the thing you see - I can-t - because he-s flittered off again - doing a runner on his innumerable scuttling rattling clod-hopping gutter-jumping square-toed diamond-buckled rhythm -n- blues (that-s shoes to you) so I-ll be off after the vanishing glistening footprints of carapaced sparkling mirth and see if he-s gone back to the phone-box - there-s just a chance he-ll remanifest out of the ephemeral archaic aether there in his aerie eyrie atop the midnight classical kiosk where many a jar of nature-nectar necked and knocked gnashing and dashing it to the floor as the visions spun in - 
A desert road - a leafy lane - a watery meadow - a dusty summer road through the slumberous country - eagles over the mountains and rivers spilling down into the rich plains where gypsy fiddles sing and pungent woodsmoke swirls subtle but sweet - moon sets and dawn grey paints dew glistening with diamonds on the cobwebs and the chattering of the first wren coming through the mist of a silvery day rising - 

Dizzy spins the Milky Way -

Stardust and jelly -

Whispered Echoes

If time is an illusion then you can-t be late so here is The Caterpillar Dub for June 2018 -  For iconographic reasons the portrait of The Luminous Three had to be represented in a new way -  The figure of Quan Yin was drawn by Flora -  She also did the small horned creature which represents Lao Tsu and the caterpillar which represents a transformed emanation of Shakyamuni Buddha - Seems like a good symbolic animal for this purpose as the transformation of wiggling grub into a beautiful flying creature is a good illustration of the change that takes place on Enlightenment when the true nature of mind and reality is finally realized - 

The Luminous Three at peace in the mountains

Will the Circle be Unbroken ~