Of the people
It’s poetry
It’s liturgy
It’s the work
Of the people
:- Doug.
Action does not come from outside our people, nor solely from inside them, but also from between them.
:- Doug.
We have convinced ourselves that the answers lie outside ourselves. There are two clues in that: lie & answers.
:- Doug.
There is so much more to this world
Than we know in our common hours
We need more of us
To get enough of us
Into this, our uncommon hour
:- Doug.
Poetry is for work
Conversation is for work
The poet expects the people to work
:- Doug.
It is our job as prophets to remind our people—they are all our people—that we can grow good out of the condition in which we find ourselves. Acceptance is not an option when the condition is oppression of or abdication by the people. Our words: Remember our power—the power of vision. The time is ripe.
:- Doug.
Memory is good—it is a tool we can use. But it is to the spring like a bottle: what is stored quickly grows stale if not used—poured out—mixed with seeds or bodies or the air. It is necessary to keep in mind that the spring’s the source and our work is not to bottle but to put to work.
:- Doug.
Metaphors—such as planting and harvesting—can open us only so far. From there we need imagination to bring out the real harvest, for the harvest is not from the ground on a limited ball, but from the imagination of a illimitable mind—and that mind is not singular but plural.
:- Doug.
It is not just imagination seeding imagination, but the facts 1. Every common one of us has imagination and its products; 2. if we start with harvesting, we start with those products we already have (albeit usually unconsciously); and 3. these harvests harvesting will of their nature produce more and of higher quality.
:- Doug.
With people
First you see the container
Then you see the person
And the container you no longer see
That’s the problem with G*d
No container
Also good thing
:- Doug.
We seek fruit:
What do we do to get fruit?
Does that come backing in?
Perhaps we should—purposely—
Trust in the unexpected
Plant not but harvest
For imagination’s seed is itself!
:- Doug.
G*d you are the snow upon the old brown leaf, the furries flying on the wind, the taste of wonder on my eyelashes.
:- Doug.
People are the fountains and the fountains in them are imagination.
:- Doug.