Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Under Jade Mountains, Cloud Shadow

Flower-gardens in the rain, petals washed away, rain falling in the pond.

Frogs hiding, long hours, summer afternoon. Lighthouse, the ship- sunlight on brick on summer-lightning’s tongue. Tendrils of ivy on topiary trellises. Still the sampan goes down river, past buffaloes and mountains of the sun. Horns of the beast rippling with crinkled crumple-horn-rimmed speculation in orbic magnification. Smoky blocks of tea in the market, kettles, fruits unknown. Under Jade Mountains, cloud shadow. Under cloud shadow, Jade Mountains. Cloud over mountain, over air over earth. Forest quivers as monkey climbs higher. Rain in the East- the first drops falling into the tea-bowl…

Under cloud shadow, quiet presides- then thunder crackles and roars between the peaks. Gurgling waterfall draws colourful birds; a sage observes. Rain-curtains sweep across the mountains and valleys, grey sheets of water-element mixing with air. Water presides, and the crags run white with rivulets. Under Cloud Mountain, shadow of jade glows green. Down the river, past wallowing cattle, floating long hours. Tendrils of lightning’s tongue flicker petals of pond-water tea-bowls. Monkey splashes in the pond, slurps from tea-bowl, nibbles on rare lotus-shoots and runs shrieking into the trees. “Aboo! Aboo!”






Published in the street by The Invertebrate Press…

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Special Lo-Fi Caterpillar Edition 36

A carapaced overcoat huddled to the wind, disappearing round the next corner, enshrouded and enmeshed in mist. The multiple feet pattering on the Cornish cobblestone caunseway, clattering. A presence, larval, gnoscient, aglow with wisdom, a clear intelligence, cornucopia of crystalline chrysalis glistering glycerine lepidopteral looming forth through the fog that swirled in from the sea. This was no everyday wanderer, not the typical denizen of this realm of codfish pasties and odd goings-on. This was the ‘Carapaced One’, as I thought him so dubbed; the very Caterpillar, transmitter of this flow of fluttering double journals, flags flew in face of fleeting street rag barrows.

Holder of myriad glossaries of dialects, alphabets, idioms, pictorial hieroglyphs and tablets ceramicus. Dabbler in technology of shifting times, epochs and places around and all over the place. Broadcaster of shimmering symbols on aether’s aery waves. Living lexicon of culture’s codes, collections of systems, ways of communication lost or not yet found, ways ancient and dreaminspired; ways mottled in sunshine’s memory’s yesterday’s forever’s dancing leaves in the sun of yesterday’s a sunny day’s a dappled windy day’s echoing, shuddering, rippling pictures. Most informative and innovative pupa, mystical tourist guide to psyche’s flight; so long from my sight. A message he transmitted to me by the wire, the telex. This slumbering behemoth of a beast of a machine still hurled its rolls unraveling an ink-spattering paper-jam, ticker-tape and green lights flashing. Dream-transmissions of subtle cultural sub-codes continued. Myths imparted by osmotic symbiosis. An outwardly rippling telegraphy of symbolic meanings to open the eyes- his mission resolute as he hunched over the dials of his communicating device, reloading paper-supply regularly and antennae-inspecting the inner-workings, clicking. With insectivorous precision he fixes the coordinates and delineates the paramaters of transmission, then the wave is put out. Jamming all spectra, the Caterpillar rides the airwaves as a buckaroo clings to the mane of a bucking morvil steer or a toucan spills over the rainbow gliding. Valves glowing and static crackling, ribbon spins and swirls on spools as ink is warmed by special flame jets to correct temperature for print-run, paper by now spinning on giant rolls towards gaping jaws of printing press. With the crisp rip of paper torn along a perforation, the message is in and production can commence… Dials sing, valves glow and the wave is put out…

















email: caterpillardub@gmx.com



Burn, burn, burn…..