August 14th and my fourth temporal warp on 2011 opened; clouds as gateways. A white hole and one of the few recent moments to smile recently: rebuilding life and home from the tornado in April coupled with expected daily toiling at meaninglessness under the guise of success with delusions the size of the Crab Nebula…at least in its better days.
Many areas of the city are still in clean up mode and the rebuilding in east Tuscaloosa, where I live, is a visual gallery of ravaged natural landscapes and structural damage startlingly similar to Beirut in the seventies; all of those black and white filmstrips in the nineteen fifties of nuclear bomb blasts, where trees and buildings were obliterated at sharp angles, is echoed in horrific surreal tableaux.
As a lover of natural and cosmic scenery the opportunity to look upwards from the tragedy and quickly have the vastness of space and time remind me that while I may be a whisp of molecules I am capable of appreciating the majestic reality beyond the reach of my fingers because my eyes are wide open.
The hallucinations came on suddenly and expectantly with a nifty array of resplendent lights and colures never found in rainbows. Chem trails were visible in the late night sky. Unseen forces perpetually rearranging carbon based molecules to deplete the stock of unruly earthbound occupants from their complacency with self absorbed evil transmigration from the soul. Giddiness followed sans restraint and hilarity; sky altering personal perceptiveness and reminding to look up now and then. Far too many look down at their shoes or across the street but rarely recalling childish wonder of what was beyond our vision of the unknown deep blue and bilious clouds.
stars are plenty
clouds, so many
colors of blue
many a hue
looking at you
beyond visual fields
mind’s eye yields
more to what is known
than ever shown
henry b. rosenbush 11.17.08
Education consists mainly of what we have unlearned. Mark Twain
While projecting a temporal warp Monday it became necessary to call upon a forgotten Greek Goddess and a writer who William Faulkner called “the father of American literature” to succeed; thanks largely to a wicked migraine (only my third of June when at this time last year I had endured six), the heat, which reached into the mid 90s before thunderstorms nearby cooled down West Ala into the sultry upper 80s, and pressures of life and light.
As an cloud observer, I search for helpful billowy camaraderie whenever I traverse the realms of temporal warps, which always guarantees a “Wha…?” expression from strangers. Yes, I believe individuals can open the fabric of time and space and as these two whisps of moisture in portraiture remind the imagination is only as strong as we wish it.
Twain was exuberant and Goddess of Scents Aromancer smelled so nice I almost forgot to focus my energies of the rapidly closing passageway between West Ala and RI, where I was projecting the warp, filled with online-degree-carrying-marketing-savvy elves and trolls with perfume experience to help a dear friend with a new sweet business enterprise.