Incandescent bread 

I baked bread recently using khorasan wheat. I had never milled grain for bread before and it was an arduous process with a countertop grinder. I was actually more interested in studying how my sourdough starter would work on a new variety of wheat flour.

The type I used, Triticum turanicum, (trademarked as Kamut in the US) is named after a species that some websites claim, possibly had its origins in the Fertile Crescent region of the Middle East, in what could have been parts of Iran, Afghanistan or Turkey. The Khorasan wheat, according to some others, is thought to have originated in Mesopotamia and then brought into Egypt [1]. Kamut is similar to durum wheat which is the one used in making pasta. 

In her dissertation, Tate Paulette notes that in the third millennium BC, cuneiform documents suggested that barley was more widely grown along with some emmer wheat and another free threshing species, which could have possibly been durum. Paulette also adds that in some sites across Northern and Southern Mesopotamia for example, archaeologists have actually recovered emmer wheat (Triticum dicoccum), and einkorn wheat (Triticum monococcum), as well as some other varieties of wheat, including bread wheat (Triticum aestivum) and club wheat (Triticum compactum) in addition to 2-row (Hordeum distichum) and 6-row (Hordeum
vulgare) barley (Paulette 2015: 7-8)[2]. 

Navigating heirloom grains is an almost political process. In any case, it was fun experimenting with this unusual looking wheat berry and the bread had an even crumb to it. It was delicious, like bread can be. I should share the recipe soon. 

Enjoy the poem !

The dough is molten at oven spring,
like a prayer to the historicity of things ..

Have we not imagined yesterdays
in the ritual of bread ? While our pasts

lay embezzled, on the tongues of men, the
sentiment of centuries colluded in germ,

echoing through heirloom remembrances
those floury philosophies of change.

While I stretch dough to gaze past
a windowpane, as far back as Khorasan ..

they were other names then, another
elasticity in time. Faith is a memory

of settled people in lands of milk and
honey, where every drought, every flood

spawns a new religion .. and the wheat,
always begs the same old question:

Are we there yet, in the fertile crescent
of opportunity ? The grains haven't changed

in their stolid countenance - long, subtle,
germy, cosseted. In the granaries of kings ..

they are willed by royal decree, never to die
in an eternal future and like humankind,

who score bread in the cuneiform of hearts,
grain is always thirsting to seed the land.

Terms [3]

Oven spring – In bread baking, the final burst of rising just after a loaf is put in the oven and before the crust hardens.

Windowpane test – the term is used to describe the state of the dough when it has been kneaded/folded enough and has a strong gluten network. 

[1]~https://www.organicvalley.coop/blog/bob-quinn-modern-benefits-of-ancient-grains/

[2]~https://oi.uchicago.edu/research/research-archives-library/dissertations/grain-storage-and-moral-economy-mesopotamia-3000

[3]~https://www.breadandbasil.nyc/sourdough/sourdough-glossary#windowpane

Freddie Mercury: bohemian rhapsodist, stitcher of songs

Mama,
I don't want to die,
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all.

~ Freddie Mercury
This was taken outside the Rock Pub on Nevskiy Avenue, 38/4, St. Petersburg, Russia

.

There is something enduring about the Bohemian Rhapsody and it still finds a place on many of my playlists. It was on an evening during lockdown last year while I was out walking, in a singular perfect moment I thought I actually felt this song, its poetic composition and its musical score and decided I wanted to write about it. I did. I was Freddie obsessed for a month or more and I never got around to publishing the article. It is his birthday today, so it appears to be the perfect time to post it. 

This is a fresh look into why the composition reads like an expression of his personal inner conflict and I was further inspired that his early childhood and adolescence appear like a montage of scenes from familiar places given that he lived in India and Zanzibar until he was around eighteen. 

Freddie Mercury would have been 75 years old on the 5th of September this year if he were not to tragically die so young from AIDS related complications at forty five, in the November of 1991. He was a flamboyant performer, the one to attain the distinction of having written a six minute rhapsodic suite that catapulted the British Rock band Queen to superstar status; in fact, his Bohemian Rhapsody, taken from their 1975 album,  A Night At The Opera, has been streamed way over a billion times on Youtube [1]  and remains one of the most intriguing lyrical compositions to this day. 

So, I wish to use this occasion to send some love to wherever in the afterlife this Persian Popinjay may be strutting around but also to ponder why this poet/bard would have rhapsodised thus .. 

From Wikipedia – (Left to right) Joe Mazzello, Rami Malek, and Gwilym Lee promoting the film in 2018. MTV International – Bohemian Rhapsody Cast Play Who Said It: Queen or The Queen? | MTV MOVIES. CC BY 3.0

.

Many are aware, I assume, of the 2018 movie starring Rami Malek, Bohemian Rhapsody,  a biographical drama about Mercury that renewed interest in Queen as well as all the biographies written about him. The song itself reads like a nihilistic anthem but is in fact a uniquely poignant and perhaps, concealed message, on what the composer Tim Rice [2] called, a sort of coming out song about being gay. Interestingly, Freddie began writing this song while in his twenties that was completed and recorded after around the middle of his roller coaster life, in 1975. 

Mercury didn’t give that very many interviews and in those which he did, he actually spoke more about his music, the business and other such related matters, offering very little insight into his personal life, of which he was very guarded and discreet. At the same time, of the various biographies [3]  that were written about him, the one by his partner Jim Hutton, Mercury and me, focuses mostly on their complicated relationship and provides a unique perspective of Freddie Mercury in his final years. The other, A Life in His Own Words, edited by Greg Brooks and Simon Lupton,  is a collection of quotes and interviews in no chronological order, with a foreword by Mercury’s  mother, Jer Bulsara. Then there is Somebody to Love, which was compiled by entertainment industry veterans, Mark Langthorne and Matt Richards, who speak mostly of the impacts Mercury had on the acceptance of LGBTQ and about the AIDS crisis. 

His British biographer, Lesley-Ann Jones [4], who wrote Bohemian Rhapsody: The Definitive Biography of Freddie Mercury in 2011, in her interview with Billboard, recalled Freddie as a very polite, respectful and an incredibly shy man despite his flamboyance on stage. She noted that although he was inherently gentle and kind, he could be waspish and cruel. The movie [she said] hadn’t scraped the surface of his multiple contradictions. When she enquired about the meaning behind the words to the song, he didn’t  give her a clear answer although he did allude that the song was about relationships. 

She also noted that the childhood and adolescence of Freddie, until the forced exodus of his family from Zanzibar in East Africa to the UK in 64, was shaped largely by Freddie’s life in boarding school, discovering UK pop singles and avante garde contemporaneous music and being consumed by separation anxiety for living so far away from his family; it is what largely shaped him and his art and is little spoken of.

Freddie Mercury and the Hectics. Scroll.in This is an article interviewing some of Mercury’s classmates at his school in India. Article by Anvar Alikhan in 2016.

.

Extremely reserved about his birth family and his cultural upbringing as a Parsi from India, Freddie also never openly admitted to his sexual orientation, in fact is known to have  stayed away from his partner Tim Hutton while in the eye of the public or the British tabloids. His relationship with his ex wife Mary Hutchins was  without children and he left her a vast portion of his legacy, his beloved home and entrusted her with dispensing with his ashes after death. They had a remarkably long lasting relationship evidently, built on trust and mutual affection, despite a divorce and presumably, admittance of his sexual orientation early into his marriage. 

The Bohemian Rhapsody [5], as it were, appears to encapsulate the unspeakable tragedy of Freddie’s life as he perceived it at the time, something he could perhaps never articulate to himself then but foundered below the surface. Many have attempted to interpret the song but haven’t exhausted every approach to its intrigue. The real Freddie Mercury behind his leonine theatrics, drug fuelled orgies and endearing onstage persona will forever remain an enigma but he admitted to his beelzebub in lyrical acceptance of his own fallibilities, which is endearing. Perhaps, that’s why a song inspired thus can capture the imagination of millions.

As bohemian as they make them, Freddie Mercury was a stitcher of songs for his rhapsody was written on scraps of paper while a student at Ealing college (1966 – 69, hardly two years after he left Zanzibar), so most likely manifesting his inner voice, finding expression in his episodic, yet unified and free flowing single movement work, that sweeps across contrasting moods, tones, voice, operatic crescendos, literary devices. The music he set it to even includes a lengthy guitar riff. It is remarkable that a song without any formal structure, is so engorged on a potency of feeling through words displaying pathos, eliciting sympathy, expressing outrage, making invocations of exculpation, indicating resignation and surrender to an inescapable fate (or in retrospect, functions like a premonition) and interrupted by what loosely functions as a sort of flippant chorus, this particularly he described to Kenny Everett, a DJ friend of his, as random rhyming nonsense. 

If random be the faux chorus at conception, irregular it hardly appears upon analysis. Almost akin to the West African Oriki praise songs or rhapsodies in traditional Yoruba music with  bards employing great poetic license leaving much  to interpretation or the imagination of the listeners, or even the far removed Chinese elegiac Han rhapsodies  with their many literary devices, Freddie Mercury, in more recent times, has been the ultimate rhapsodist, in essence a Rock Genre contemporary stitcher of songs, with an avante-garde composition that evolves like a sum of many disparate parts to yield this six minute episodic ballad. 

Joshua Allen [6] of The Morning News, sometime in 2008 [7], made a jocose argument that the perfect track length is 2:42 seconds, a kind of golden mean of audio. Even if they didn’t know it then, Queen did not succumb to the pressure of reducing the duration of this six minute song to conform to any existing idea of a perfect song length. Freddie Mercury was no conformist. It is so heartening to see artists remain impervious to pressure in their radical, risky, creative out- of- the box approach while they push the envelope, so to speak.

The decades of the sixties and seventies were those of counter cultural free spirits and hippies, the era of corduroy or bell bottoms or puka shells and feathered hair. Also, in an interview with David Wigg [8] in Munich, 1985,  Freddie, alluding to his Parsi heritage said: “That’s something inbred, that’s part of me and I’ll always walk around like a Persian popinjay [9]. No ones going to stop me honey”. There’s frankly, nothing more bohemian than that. In fact, his silver sequined jumpsuit [10] and harlequins, wing tops, vinyl pants, yellow buckle jacket are unforgettable.

In the same interview in 1985, Wigg pointedly asked Mercury, “Have you become disillusioned with mankind?” The artist was nonplussed for a while before he laughed and retorted: “That’s a bit heavy isn’t it David?” In that conversation with Wigg, Mercury admitted or quoted that he has no true friend and that Mary Hutchins was the only one he would refer to but he treasured his independence,  hid behind his work and admitted to going on stage for the adulation of his fans, which he considered being his fantasy land. When he came back to reality, there was no one to give him that emotional support that he most definitely craved.

Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality.

Yet, his theatrics, the outrageous costumes, being blasé with the public that ‘trapped one’, he said, ‘into delivering what they wanted to hear based on what one had done before’, was the last thing he would want, to stymie his creativity. It was truly the knife edge Mercury wished to tread on, the danger element which was exactly what he thought the band needed. His biographer Lesley-Ann Jones noted his perfectionism and attention to detail and that Mercury approached being a frontman for the band as a job like any other and yet, he was happiest while on stage. 

Years ago in Stone Town, Zanzibar

Freddie Mercury was born Farrokh Balsara in Zanzibar, to Indian Parsis originally from Bulsar, now known as Valsad, a city in the Western state of Gujarat in India, mainly known for its Vansda National Park. It lies along the Gulf of Khambhat (Cambay), south of the city of Surat. The Parsis are Zoroastrians who fled Iran in the seventh century, with many settling in Gujarat and Maharashtra. His father was a cashier at Zanzibar’s British Colonial Office [11] and was transferred to the island of Zanzibar (now part of Tanzania), where Mercury was born in 1946. His parents’ house is now converted to a hotel on the island. Mercury spent his youth in India where he attended St. Peter’s Church of England School, a prestigious all-boys boarding school in Panchgani, near Bombay along with many other expatriate Indians living in East Africa at the time.  While in India, he called himself Freddie and also formed a popular school band named the Hectics. He finished the last two years of his courses at the Roman Catholic St. Joseph’s Convent School back in Zanzibar.

An example of a Zanzibari door, I don’t have a picture of the Mercury house or any other house that claims to be the birth house or residence of Mercury’s family, although some can be easily found online.

.

His family was relatively wealthy and by no means was he a poor boy. In 1964, the Zanzibar Revolution [12] helped overthrow the islands’ first post colonial regime after independence from British rule, a period of several weeks where people of Arab and South Asian heritage were targeted, in many cases lethally, by African islanders, the former being mostly affluent and economically privileged. During this time, he and his family used their British passports to flee to England where he attended Isleworth College and Ealing Art College, and graduated in 1969 with a diploma in graphic art and design. It was a turbulent life, moving under duress from Tropical Zanzibar to Temperate England.

Open your eyes,
Look up to the skies and see,
I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy,
Because I'm easy come, easy go,
Little high, little low,
Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, to me.

It is also the life of a boy, who during his formative years, had been separated from his family across the Arabian Sea, where one needed to board a ship to attend boarding school or return home. Freddie is known to have been shy by nature and made fun of for his hyperdontia or his famous protruding teeth and was nicknamed ‘bucky’, [13] experiencing perhaps the usual traumas of childhood slurs. It wouldn’t appear odd that he hankered after sympathy, considering his later, flamboyant life. Freddie didn’t quite hide behind who he thought he was, or the legacy of his childhood impressions, instead he stood before the world to court adulation.

Reportedly, after Freddie Mercury  married Mary Hutchins  in 1973, he confessed to her he was bisexual in 1976 but his song went public in 1975. It was a remarkable relationship but this is not to minimize what Mary may have gone through, discovering after marriage that her husband was gay. The 1980’s are understood to have been a period of intense homophobia; the conservative governments at the time provided very little support to LGBT either in the UK or even in the US. To exacerbate the issue, the AIDS epidemic was demonised in common parlance as the ‘gay plague’ [14] and manipulated to blame or vilify LGBT people, to justify increasing homophobic repression. 

Moreover, Mercury had his childhood and adolescence spent in fairly conservative environments, in Catholic Schools, in being a part of the Parsi community, even undergoing the traditional Navjote ceremony which is akin to a Bar Mitzvah in Judaism. So, here was a boy who was most certainly having an immense emotional conflict regarding his sexuality sitting squarely in the middle of contrarian societal, parental and religious expectations including those of the multitude of his fans. He never told his mother he was homosexual; and she recounted this [15] with a tear in her eye in an interview, dismissing it as things that weren’t spoken of in those days. For a public persona like Mercury, traveling the path he had to is like traveling along a paralleling of soul desires of sorts. These were most probably immensely powerful sets of anachronisms, of  the culturally conservative and  the contemporaneously glam rock, to carry within one’s heart, to try and contend with. 

Mama, just killed a man,
Put a gun against his head,
Pulled my trigger, now he's dead.
Mama, life had just begun,
But now I've gone and thrown it all away.

Mama, ooh,
Didn't mean to make you cry,
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow,
Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters.

If he were, in that day and age, to resort to understanding and coming to terms with his sexual orientation through confessions, public admissions, or even scanning the liturgical texts of the day, which perhaps he did, it may have set the tone of what he truly felt was his fate as a gay man which wouldn’t have been an easy path to tread. To be a ‘man’ in a conservative society at the time, would be to assume then the task of procreation within heterosexual partnership, fulfilling the expectations of carrying on the familial bloodlines. In light of this, in his song at least, he publicly admitted to his Mother it would appear that he was not the man she hoped he would be.

Too late, my time has come,
Sends shivers down my spine,
Body's aching all the time.
Goodbye, everybody, I've got to go,
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth.

People sometimes say that HIV appeared[16] in the 1980s in the USA, but in fact this was just when people first became aware of HIV and it was officially recognised as a new health condition. Freddie Mercury recorded the Bohemian Rhapsody in 1975, long before this. It was on June 5, 1981, that the U.S. Center for Disease Control (CDC) published an article in its Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report (MMWR) about Pneumocystis Pneumonia in Los Angeles, wherein it described cases of a rare lung infection in five young, white, previously healthy gay men in Los Angeles. Other unusual infections in all the men were also reported as well, indicating immune systems that were not working. Two would have already died by the time the report was published and the others would die soon after. This edition of the MMWR marked the first official reporting of what would later become known as the AIDS (Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome) epidemic.

Mama, ooh (Any way the wind blows),
I don't want to die,
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all.

A sexual orientation that isn’t the norm in a generally homophobic society can be difficult to come to terms with, let alone safely express. This, compounded with liturgical texts and codes that list out  punitive measures rather than an empathic understanding, along with the seemingly archaic laws of the day and age, would have surely  triggered a debilitating inner turmoil within Freddie even if he were a pop star and celebrity. One can only wonder if he were able to connect with his family or community or peers over this, for a secrecy around it would have surely been a recipe for emotional and psychological trauma and isolation of sorts. It might serve to remember that Freddie Mercury spent all of his formative years and until he was 18 in India and Zanzibar. Even though the Parsi community is considered quite progressive within India, homosexuality nevertheless, had a bad rap across religious divides in either of the places at the time. 

Of the five books of the Avesta, also called Zend-avesta [17], the sacred book of Zoroastrianism that contains its cosmogony, law, and liturgy, and the teachings of the prophet Zoroaster (Zarathushtra), the Vendidad/Videvdad is the main source for Zoroastrian law, both ritual and civil. Zend-Avesta literally means ‘interpretation of the Avesta’. The information about homosexuality contained in this literature is restricted to anal intercourse, as defined in the Videvdad (8.32) In the Avesta there is no mention of heterosexual anal intercourse, but in Zoroastrian texts this practice is alluded to and equally condemned. There is also a distinction between consensual [18] and non-consensual passive partners; thus, in the Videvdad (8.26-32)[18], the punishment for a man who is submitted to intercourse against his will is a whipping, the same as would have been the punishment for killing a sheep-dog (Vd. 13.2); but, if he does it willingly, his sin is inexpiable. There is also an Avestan fragment which indicates that the passive partner may be killed with impunity (Fragment, Vd. 7.52.3)[18]

Given his background and sociocultural context, perhaps Freddie Mercury at the time of writing the song, already considered himself damned. In an age with very few  answers available, it would be a remarkable feat to live a way of life that was against the grain of society.

I see a little silhouetto of a man,
Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?
Thunderbolt and lightning very, very frightening me.
(Galileo) Galileo.
(Galileo) Galileo,
Galileo Figaro
Magnifico o o o o.

There have been many interpretations of who from the band would most likely have been any of the characters mentioned in this verse. Scaramouche was interpreted to be Freddie himself.  Italian Scaramuccia,[19] is a stock character of the Italian theatrical form known as the commedia dell’arte; An unreliable servant whose affinity for intrigue and unscrupulous nature  landed him in knotty situations from which he always managed to conveniently extricate himself, usually leaving an innocent bystander as his victim. If these words were, as Freddie himself described them, nonsensical rhyming words, then he was well versed in poetic gibe.

Expecting the Scaramouche to perform a triple metre lively Spanish dance like a Fandango,  to the accompaniment of guitar and castanets is much less like the tomfoolery it was actually meant to be [20], for Freddie, the quintessential performer simply only wanted to have fun on stage.

Even so, it hasn’t deterred ardent fans from trying to guess who inspired those characters. Galileo was purportedly the guitarist Brian May, who went on to get his PhD in Astrophysics. Figaro, according to some analyses, would have been the tuxedo clad kitten Figaro from Walt Disney’s 1940 animation film, Pinocchio or simply, the enigmatic [21] bass player, songwriter in Queen, John Deacon.

Freddie wanted to be adored and lived his life large. He said so himself. He was known for his outrageous parties, one of which was famously known as ‘Saturday Night in Sodom’ and not for nothing. Guests were rumoured [22] to have been  welcomed by dwarves serving Bolivian cocaine from trays strapped to their heads amidst a menu of other exotic diversions.

I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me.
He's just a poor boy from a poor family,
Spare him his life from this monstrosity.

What may have been the price of this adulation, the raunchy hedonism and dissipate debauchery?  Alexander Atkins in an insightful analysis [23] of the song, refers to next stanza as revealing a Faustian bargain that has possibly been struck with the devil,  wherein the central character of the song trades his moral integrity and soul in exchange for worldly pleasures and comforts. Is this what perturbs the composer of this rhapsody? 

Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go. (Let him go!)
Bismillah! We will not let you go. (Let him go!)
Bismillah! We will not let you go. (Let me go!)
Will not let you go. (Let me go!)
Never let you go (Never, never, never, never let me go)
Oh oh oh oh
No, no, no, no, no, no, no
Oh, mama mia, mama mia (Mama mia, let me go.)
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me.

In Christianity, alternate names for Satan or even a lesser devil are Beelzebub or Beelzebul which derives from the New Testament’s preservation of an otherwise unknown Jewish tradition in which Baal Zebub was thought of as the ‘prince of demons’. Deep within perhaps, there is the crystallization of a thought or belief, that his sexual orientation attracts damnation. 

The severity of  punishments [24] and future prospects of ridicule, ostracism or even harsh penalty for men performing anal intercourse vary in the religious sources that dilineate such issues. The Ardā Wirāz-nāmag also known as the Arda Wiraf or Book of the Just Wiraz, a Zoroastrian religious text of the Sasanian era written in Middle Persian, describes the dream-journey of a devout Zoroastrian (the Wiraz of the story) through the next world. In the case of homosexual intercourse, the passive performer is punished by having a snake the size of a beam go in through his body and out by the mouth, while other snakes are chewing up the rest of his innards (chap. 19; tr. Gignoux, pp. 174-75) [25]. Interestingly, this sin is the first that Arda Wiraz (The wise Wiraz) encounters in Hell; all other sins are further down, with the more serious among them, presumably heterosexual  anal intercourse and adulterous seduction, which are also punished by being eaten by snakes and worms (chap. 71; tr. Gignoux, p. 201). Strangely, religious texts, however dated and irrelevant to contemporary situations, dictate much of the socio-cultural, even if the religious avatar of an argument is eventually discarded for some moral, ethical or in some cases, even a scientific garb. 

Interestingly, Peter Freestone [26], Mercury’s close friend and former assistant who helped execute the singer’s funeral, wrote in his book ‘Freddie Mercury: An Intimate Memoir by the Man Who Knew Him Best’: “Freddie had been far from being actively opposed to anyone’s religion or faith. The things that offended him were the trappings and hypocrisy involved in the various clerical and institutional aspects of established religion.”

So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?
So you think you can love me and leave me to die?
Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby,
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here.

If the Bohemian Rhapsody were about relationships, it would appear to be a sad case of unrequited love with a lashing out at anyone that perchance, sought to diminish Freddie’s self worth. I don’t think it is, it is a lashing against his personal and public circumstances. It wasn’t easy being who he was then, except for the slight relief of the stage.

Nothing really matters,
Anyone can see,
Nothing really matters,
Nothing really matters to me.

Any way the wind blows...

Recording the operatic section [27] itself took over 70 hours. If anything, the very declaration of his indefinable sense of vulnerability and angst in poetic lyricism, is what shot Queen to super stardom. They say that every person has at least one book within them, maybe even a song; this was, I believe, Mercury’s song, his profound expression of a potently effervescent self, steeped in his innermost despairing conflicts.

One often overlooked aspect is his astrological portrait. Given the human tendency to assess and judge people not personally known through  psychological, anthropological, social, cultural and religious lenses, an astrological lens should not seem then, too far-fetched.

Freddie appeared to be consumed by an innate and intense desire to create an alter ego worthy of adulation on stage. His purported out-partying at the time, of even Elton John, his addictions, multiple sexual partners and over the top sartorial flamboyance on stage, made me curious as to what the actual stars revealed about Mercury. It wasn’t easy to find any information on this aspect except for some birth charts on popular sites. I did find one particularly interesting analysis by Sidereal astrologer, Michael Conneely, which presumes that Freddie was born under the lunar mansion or nakshatra of Moola (within the Sagittarius constellation)[28] His natal chart stands true for what is already well known about Mercury – his star output on stage, his creative talents, his theatrical flamboyance, even his hyperdontia and early death, but what lies behind his very personal Bohemian Rhapsody, is revealed by the position of his Moon, which in astrology is the seat of emotions. This particular one, Moola,  can be a difficult one and part of the constellation can be located at (which Sidereal astrology defines) the point Gandanta or the spiritual knot. The Moola Gandanta is placed where the sign of watery Scorpio meets the sign of fiery Sagittarius, potent merging of water and fire that turns into steam, metaphorically speaking. Vedic Astrologer Komila Sutton explains rather poetically, what it means to have a personal celestial body like the powerful moon (the bedrock of emotions and the inner life as per astrological belief)  at this point, and it applies to Freddie Mercury quite aptly in the light of his very famous song which in turn seems the blueprint of his famous persona ! 

She says, [29] “Sagittarius Moola Gandanta is the most difficult one as it moves the inner soul towards it’s final direction towards merging with the universal consciousness. This is the stage where the material ties are being shattered and the soul realises it’s true spiritual direction. This is where the maximum churning of the inner emotions takes place. Even when the soul recognises it’s path towards its true nature, it fights against it. This is never an easy task. It creates many psychological or physical blocks that need to be tackled with great maturity.”

And she goes on further to elaborate “The belief is when life crystallises at a certain point, then we journey towards the higher manifestation of the soul and the consciousness. We have to go through a particularly trying time to prepare our minds for the next step in the journey of our soul. If you are born in any of the gandanta, you can expect some spiritual difficulties in this birth. A lack of support, a sense of transformation.” I found this so poetically expressed that it felt like she was speaking of this song, the intent of the person behind it and I had to share the whole of her definition.

Short of Freddie Mercury himself being resurrected to explain the meaning of this song, a request he did not concede to during his lifetime,  I believe all modes of theorising have since been exhaustively employed. Freddie Mercury passed on before the world collectively condemned homophobia, before AIDS was no longer labelled a gay plague, before nations and communities slowly moved towards the acceptance of differing sexual choices, before religions, clerics and zealous adherents foisted less their views and judgements although they still do in many parts of the world. 

In the decades rife with bohemian free spirits , all the angst that Mercury harboured, he transformed on stage, for the world to behold. A conflicted man perhaps, a dual persona, living disparate lives in the eye of the public and in private, he wrote this song when he was a relative nobody, one that only reveals his lust for life: “ I don’t want to die; I wish I’d never been born.” Mercury prevailed for as long as he did and still prevails long after he is gone.

Happy birthday Freddie !

References:
[1] Martin Chilton. (2019).  ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’: The Story Behind Queen’s Rule-Breaking Classic Song. Retrieved from-https://www.udiscovermusic.com/stories/queen-bohemian-rhapsody-song-history/
[2] Lesley-Ann Jones. (2015). 'Bohemian Rhapsody Was Freddie Mercury's Coming Out Song'. Retrieved from-https://thewire.in/culture/is-bohemian-rhapsody-really-all-about-freddie-mercury
[3] Joshua Kanter. (NA).  The Best Freddie Mercury Biographies: Three Must-Reads About The King of Queen. An intimate glimpse into the public – and private – life of one of rock’s greatest showmen. Retrieved from-https://www.rollingstone.com/product-recommendations/books/best-freddie-mercury-bios-970839/
[4] Sam Moore. (2018). Freddie Mercury once told his biographer he felt “imprisoned” by fame. Retrieved from-https://www.nme.com/news/music/freddie-mercury-felt-imprisoned-by-fame-biographer-lesley-ann-jones-interview-2411234
[5]A Z Lyrics. (NA). Bohemian Rhapsody. Retrieved from-https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/queen/bohemianrhapsody.html
[6] Joshua Allen. (2008). Two Minutes and 42 Seconds in Heaven. Retrieved from-https://themorningnews.org/article/two-minutes-and-42-seconds-in-heaven
[7] Eliot Van Buskirk. (2008). Is 2:42 the Perfect Song Length?. Retrieved from-https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.wired.com/2008/04/is-242-the-perf/&sa=D&ust=1601049895771000&usg=AFQjCNG8wJWFQZSQflvF2antd-_0mrEK2A
[8] David Wigg. (1982). Watch Freddie Mercury's Rare 1982 ET Interview (Exclusive). Retrieved from-https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ywyzFJYGOig
[9] Ionia Italia. (2018). A Persian Popinjay. A Review of the Film Bohemian Rhapsody. Retrieved from-https://areomagazine.com/2018/11/11/a-persian-popinjay-a-review-of-the-film-bohemian-rhapsody/
[10] Amy Lee. (2018). The Most Unforgettable, Iconic Looks From Freddie Mercury -- Pics! Retrieved from-https://www.etonline.com/the-most-unforgettable-iconic-looks-from-freddie-mercury-pics-112880
[11] BBC. (2018). Freddie Mercury's complex relationship with Zanzibar. Retrieved from-https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-45900712
[12] G. Thomas Burgess. (2018). The Zanzibar Revolution and Its Aftermath. Retrieved from-https://oxfordre.com/africanhistory/view/10.1093/acrefore/9780190277734.001.0001/acrefore-9780190277734-e-155
[13] Rachel Lopez. (2018). Before he broke free: Classmates of Freddie Mercury share untold memories. Retrieved from-https://www.hindustantimes.com/art-and-culture/before-he-broke-free/story-QEYCfhPcS5FmodSXflsd5I.html
[14] Peter Tatchell. (2012). 1980s: A decade of state-sanctioned homophobia. Retrieved from-https://www.petertatchellfoundation.org/1980s-a-decade-of-state-sanctioned-homophobia/
[15] Stefan Kyriazis. (2019). Freddie Mercury never told his parents he was gay; mum Jer explains why. Retrieved from-https://www.express.co.uk/entertainment/music/1214695/Freddie-Mercury-parents-gay-Mum-Jer-bulsara-Queen-band-fans-music-AIDS-boyfriend
[16] HIV.Gov. A Timeline of HIV and AIDS. Retrieved from-https://www.hiv.gov/hiv-basics/overview/history/hiv-and-aids-timeline
[17] Britannica. Avesta:Zoroastrian Scripture. Retrieved from-https://www.britannica.com/topic/Avesta-Zoroastrian-scripture
[18] Prods Oktor Skjærvø, “HOMOSEXUALITY i. IN ZOROASTRIANISM,” Encyclopædia Iranica, XII/4, pp. 440-441, available online at http://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/homosexuality-i (accessed on 30 December 2012).
[19] Fraser Mcalpine. (2015). 10 Things You May Not Know About Queen’s ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. Retrieved from-https://www.bbcamerica.com/anglophenia/2015/10/10-things-you-may-not-know-about-queens-bohemian-rhapsody
[20] Definition of Fandango. Retrieved from-https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/fandango
[21] A portrait of Queen’s John Deacon. Retrieved from-https://brianmay.com/john/portrait.html
[22] Uncut. (2013). Queen: “It was all like a fantasy to see how far we could go”. Retrieved from-https://www.uncut.co.uk/features/queen-it-was-all-like-a-fantasy-to-see-how-far-we-could-go-18631/
[23] Alexander Atkins. (2019). What is the Meaning of Bohemian Rhapsody?. Retrieved from-https://alex-65670.medium.com/what-is-the-meaning-of-bohemian-rhapsody-e150bee6bbb0
[24] Hoshangji Jamaspji Asa, Haug, Martin, 1827-1876. West, Edward William, 1824-1905. THE BOOK OF ARDA VIRAF. Retrieved from-http://www.avesta.org/mp/viraf.html
[25] Encyclopædia Iranica. Homosexuality i. In Zoroastrianism. Retrieved from-https://iranicaonline.org/articles/homosexuality-i
[26] Ashley Lee. (2018). ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ glosses over Freddie Mercury’s roots and religion — just like he did. Retrieved from-https://www.latimes.com/entertainment/movies/la-et-mn-freddie-mercury-race-religion-name-change-20181102-story.html
[27] Matthew Horton. (2015). Queen: 20 Things You Probably Never Knew About ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. Retrieved from-https://www.nme.com/blogs/nme-blogs/queen-20-things-you-probably-never-knew-about-bohemian-rhapsody-767713
[28] Michael Conneely. (2018).Freddy Mercury & Bohemian Rhapsody Astrology. Retrieved from-https://blog.starwheelastrology.com/tag/freddie-mercury-vedic-astrology-birth-chart/
[29] Komilla Sutton. Gandanta - The Spiritual Knot. Retrieved from-https://komilla.com/lib-gandanta.html

For September

I took this photo somewhere in Flatiron, Manhattan .. the picture is by artist named dirtCobdin

Hurricane Ida’s remnants created deadly havoc in Pennsylvania, New Jersey and New York days after the system hit the Gulf Coast — some 1,000 miles away (npr.org)

Yesterday, a cloud burst in mythologies 
and the rain fidgeted over the retreat

of a tidal pantheon; deities swept away
by a current, and we stood awhile, watching

the moon elbow out the dusk. Breathing
is burdensome when cars float on water

and corpses leak out of cavernous
basements. Every tablet, etched, in the cold

heart of building code was read again
and then again. It wasn't enough to blame

Aeolian whim or the raging riposte of Apollo,
now that we had marvelled away Gaia's

ozone skirt. Her amnion always leaked
in folkloric floods each time she birthed

a parable. She once asked Noah to build
an ark so he could ride her waves

and we scrape the sky to impale her 
in shards where her womb is soft and yielding,

as we sour the air and burn the water and strip
her of her emerald sigh and melt her hills

and silt her wetlands. Mostly it was the asphalt
plastering her yearning that calcified her veins

and arteries, as she died slowly under our feet
we could hardly fathom her sorrow for the tears

rolled off her torso like an oil slick
and rode far into the subway for sewers.

Notes on hurricane Ida:

Hurricane Ida was the second-most damaging hurricane to strike the U.S. state of Louisiana on record, behind only Hurricane Katrina. The remnants of hurricane killed at least 43 people in New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Connecticut and left more than 150,000 homes without power on Wednesday, the first of September [1] The streets and subway platforms turned into rivers with the deluge of rain, people were trapped in their cars and some washed away by flash floods. A tornado (strength F-3) leveled houses in Mullica Hill, New Jersey with estimated winds of 150 miles per hour.

According to Tripti Bhattacharya (earth and environmental sciences at Syracuse University) whose research on regional rainfall and climate change was cited in the U.N.’s recent climate change report, hurricane Ida had just the right mix of weather conditions in place to fuel the system. The remnants of Ida met another system, an extra tropical front and combined to create heavy rainfall of er New York and New Jersey. Ida also spent time over a warm waters in the northern Gulf of Mexico which allowed it to intensify very quickly. As atmosphere warms due to the changing climate, it can hold more moisture which translates to excessive rainfall [2]

‘For every 1 degree Celsius of global warming, the atmosphere can hold roughly 7 percent more water vapor. Cities like New York are often more vulnerable to sudden downpours because so much of their land area is paved over with impervious surfaces like asphalt, which means that runoff is channeled into streets and sewers rather than being absorbed into the landscape’ [3]

There is need to take a hard look at city infrastructure, carbon emissions, infrastructure for improved and accurate weather forecasts in addition to looking at vulnerability maps and how that maps onto income for those that are hardest hit by such unpredictable weather.

The need for climate responsive architecture:

|Climate-responsive architecture functions in lockstep with the local climate(temperature, historical weather patterns, etc.), the direction of the sun (sun path and solar position), site-specific environmental conditions (such as wind, rainfall, humidity), seasonality and also taking into account the natural shade provided by the surrounding area and topography to design pleasant buildings which ensure physiological comfort of users, energy-efficient buildings with reduced reliance on artificial energy|[4]

References:

[1]~https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.nytimes.com/live/2021/09/02/nyregion/nyc-storm.amp.html

[2]~https://www.npr.org/2021/09/03/1034058911/hurricane-ida-climate-change-northeast-flooding-rainfall

[3]~https://www.nytimes.com/live/2021/09/03/nyregion/nyc-flooding-ida#ida-delivery-workers-safety

[4]~https://www.re-thinkingthefuture.com/rtf-fresh-perspectives/a1060-what-architects-must-know-about-climate-responsive-architecture/

Dragonflies playing dead and other baseline studies for our trip to Mars

I love the moist and humid 

of marshland,

watching

tall grasses break

the surface of water,

simply wondering

what fish must silver

the shallows

or what reptile

slither a shiver

down the spine ..

I took these photos while we walked the trail at Lobster Cove meadow and Appalachee preserves in Boothbay Harbor. They look like a poem. At 46.8-acres,  this preserve boasts of a freshwater wetland, large field and a quite densely forested upland [1] I loved every part of it and given half a chance, I would have perhaps spent my morning sitting by that soupy ferment of grass and sodden earth, creating botanical drawings or writing floral poetry ..

.. but this prose poem is really about dragonflies and a lyrical questioning of the viability of some species of the order Odonata, on planets that humankind propose to relocate to. Of what use then, is a dragonfly?

I'm hypnotized by the dragonfly's

agile life path 

or is it - a flight path? 


On taxonomy ~


Marsh trails at Lobster Cove,

court me in grass -

resigned they are,

to the trample of feet, 

or fate, in Maine,

land richly resplendent 

in the iridescence 

of one hundred and fifty five

species ---

emeralds, jewel wings, reds,

golds, pond damsels, 

darners, skimmers, hawkers,

predators, 

dragons that fly, 

and this isn't metaphor..



I flee to be happily feral 

in these teeming marshes,

soliloquising to this multitude.

This thick slice of populace,

if you police the species,

spawn irreverent ideas

of vagrants or migrants 

or residents. Of these

I ladle millions with simply 

the scoop of my hand, 

from a steamy soupy puddle.. 

Hundreds of dragonflies 

and damselflies,

are squadrons in the sky,

a flight arena weakening air.

They meld in a singular 

poetic brush stroke 

of airy romance

even as my botanical eye 

purloins them from a vast kingdom

to stricture within an Order, 

of specialised missions,

their godly wings for escort, 

or those that pivot 

to a singular pursuit

of combative intent 

and thus, genus is recruited 

to sub orders and 

other such self effacement

There are 155 species of Odonata in Maine which include the 112 of  Anisoptera,  which is comprised only of dragonflies. These hold their wings horizontal to the surface they alight upon, while damselflies (Zygoptera), hold them vertical, this being an important criterion besides the eyes, for easy differentiation between both, although they look quite similar.  Beyond that, you could mull over the variation of  corrugation patterns, the curvature of the various ridges and deep valleys on the plane of the wing membrane, or wing span and attached musculature while considering that individuals within the same species vary considerably as also, between the species. Yet, it was of great interest to me, that measurements based on the wing profiles from a single wing of very few dried specimens spearheaded whole studies and scientific hypotheses on the effect of these morphological characteristics on aerodynamics of the dragonfly. 

It’s a dragonfly, I want to know why it flies .. so ..

.

.

Now imagine this complex wing architecture, the attached musculature that enables the independent movement of each of the four wings and the aerodynamic magic that propels the dragonfly through three dimensional trajectories, through space. The ability to manoeuvre in a way that they can fly backwards without any added expense of energy, their speed, agility and their capacity to hover, aids them in their remarkable predatory routines. It makes my heart skip a bit when I understand they exclusively intercept other flying insects while in flight, perhaps like humans attempt to do in aerial combat. These remarkable creatures can cruise, pursue, intercept while on their territorial flights, in chasing others like them or in stalking prey and some can even fly in formation.

Flying is arduous and requires efficient management of energy. In extensive studies of the relationship between the wing planform of Odonata and aerodynamic efficiency during flapping flight, it was found that dragonflies must generate 221% of the power that would be necessary to produce the same lift with perfect aerodynamic efficiency (i.e. from an ideal ‘actuator disc’ or ‘lifting line’ in laboratory conditions). Damselflies, operate with a less efficient wing shape in comparison and have to generate 275% of the power that would be required under ideal conditions, simply to fly [6] The overarching question in these studies of wingspan efficiency is, why are insect wing shapes so variable. No one has yet discovered an optimal solution from the standpoint of aerodynamics as insects have several adaptive and non-adaptive factors that contribute to wing shape, and only some of these adaptations will have any aerodynamic or mechanical relevance.

Currently, no suitable wing model exists, to replicate what is experienced by the mechanosensors present on the wings of these living creatures, that are responsible for relaying sensory signals required to power a flight. Eliciting predictable and repeatable flight responses in laboratory conditions has been tricky as well, but most importantly, inorder to generalize and validate flight strategies in the real world, field recordings are essential, but we find that a reliable field data logger for Odonata is yet to be developed.

Thus it stands, we do not understand many things about dragonflies and there are several reasons to continue to study them, least of all that such research will advance humankind’s understanding of unsteady aerodynamics, flight control, sensory integration and the evolution of flight [6] but each dragonfly has its own unique functional design and form, therefore, the task of learning about the metabolic cost of flying to each organism and drawing conclusions thus about flight strategies, is much more complicated than it appears. Until now, no human to the best of my knowledge, has produced a successful dragonfly except for another dragonfly.

My need to know and understand arises as a matter of habit, marking with gravitas this breezy situation which sometimes, a marsh walk can be. When I excitedly tell my husband about surprising facts I come across , I mean, who can not notice the science of it on a leisurely walk .. he wonders the same as I, why one’s mind cannot quite exult and float, elated on fresh air and sunshine alone 😄 Well, I try …

.. not to think of some innovative blueprint for a new drone, designed perhaps like a dragonfly or a damselfly, or scientific research pondering the inefficiency of those horizontally or vertically held wings, that somehow refuse to be consistent in their shape and size [5] There I am, in a marsh, dragonflies in a flight arena of sky, exhibiting the same tendencies as the rest of the sentient species and I realise, there isn’t enough grass nor sky for everyone. There are entire societies at play here not to feel crowded out, and I, a bystander, looking from the outside at their arduous frolicking and wondering of the aggressive sexual behaviour of dragonflies that suddenly taints every romantic vision of earth and sky that I would like to weave into my marshy poetry. Somehow, writing lyrically of how happy I am to see dragonflies engaged in territorial displays over grass, is akin to admitting I enjoy bullfights or so I think and I laugh, for I do or maybe I don’t. In all seriousness though, it prods me to think of the limits of acceptance, a virtue we are smug to extol, or of the questions we are reluctant to frame …

Do you know how we map 

the flight of consciousness ?

I think that is what it is ..

the question I mean.


I wish I could veil my glance

in poetry, blissful membranous

euphemism, like lined coffins

for the dead but I would be

unfeeling not to notice

the corrugations in

those angelic wings.


Is everywhere the place

where the glade is pleasant,

the woods cheerful,

the waters run deep ?


Sometimes, all those things, yes 

and the female of the species

dropped dead. It startled me

from my airbrushed soliloquy, 

for blade strokes -

aerodynamic, iridescent

in a viridescent marsh,

had squelched irony

from the maw of design.


Nymphs in the shallows,

are a Neverland

of eternal childhood.

In the wake

of an artful airlift

for angelic pursuit,

are embattled skies

of conflictual ardour,

and comically painful

those cerci on neck ..


The kama sutra of aerodynamic love

yields outlines of hearts,

lyrical hymns to creatures

great, cherubic, winged,

but the females fake death

to squadrons of a militant

genetic drive.



Will we need dragonflies on Mars

with no oxygen nor water to monitor?

And what use a desultory

Martian anthropomorphisation

as it bites the barren of dust?


Each wingspan a solitary delight,

those 180 degree flips

three dimensional trajectories

of love, for survival of the species

through nicks and bruises ..

Mating in dragonflies is a unique affair in that it involves serious terms like tandem linkage and wheel formation and a great deal of aggression [7] It is highly acrobatic sport and eventually a mating pair forms this heart shape as in the picture above. The male first grabs a female by the back of her neck with claspers at the end of his abdomen that are called cerci which are structural appendages that actually fit into species-specific grooves in the female. Once this tandem linkage is established, the actual consummation takes place which is quite interesting but involves sexual gymnastics involving abdominal segments and appendages for scooping out of rival sperm, some vicious territoriality, pursuit of multiple suitors and a very tired female at the end [8] The high male-biased ratio in adult dragonflies at breeding habitats, has in part, contributed to females using different habitats to avoid male harassment.

Females of some species of dragonflies (Female moorland hawkers or Aeshna juncea for example) are vulnerable to being harassed when laying eggs since they aren’t protected by their male mates. This isn’t the case with all dragonflies but many of the species exhibit sexual conflict. In Moorland hawkers for instance, eggs are usually fertilised in a single sexual encounter with a male, and copulating again could damage their reproductive tract so after the act, females crash dive to the ground at very high speeds and fake death [9]

As I marvel at the dragonfly, I appreciate what humans can learn and possibly unlearn from our compatriots on this sometimes green and golden earth, while I question if there is more to the poetry of the species than simply one upmanship, mean spiritedness, lusty escapades, romantic illusions and other attributes of our inherent genetic propensity, that mainly drive every conflict, every conquest, every war and all tribalism.

How much of dragonfly do we wish to be, plainly rhetorical musing …

There were mushrooms too ..
I thought this looked like living sculpture ..

References:

[1]~https://www.mainetrailfinder.com/trails/trail/lobster-cove-meadow-and-appalachee-preserves

[2]~https://maineanencyclopedia.com/dragonflies/

[3](Gives a list of species found in Maine and their distribution) ~https://www.jstor.org/stable/3858343

[4]~https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/geb.12758

[5]~https://www.google.com/amp/s/phys.org/news/2014-11-secret-dragonflies-flight.amp

[6]~https://royalsocietypublishing.org/doi/10.1098/rstb.2015.0389

[7]~https://www.thoughtco.com/how-dragonflies-mate-1968255

[8]~https://www.livescience.com/43206-animal-sex-dragonflies.html

[9]~https://www.newscientist.com/article/2129185-female-dragonflies-fake-sudden-death-to-avoid-male-advances/

Continental Drift, Destination Vows

As events played out recently, I had the sweet fortune of being the celebrant for a very private exchange of marriage vows (yes, y’all read that right ! 🙂) It was for a lovely couple, very good friends we’ve known for many years. I also had the privilege of solemnising a unity candle ceremony, as well as being a witness later in the presence of an officiant, authorised to lawfully seal the union. It has been a most wonderful experience, in these grey and hazy times.

Later, I wrote a poem to mark the occasion, a tribute to their nomadic lives as they work for the betterment of children’s lives the word over. I tried to capture what it means to be a couple, while being part of the United Nations, separated often by geography and time, which will resonate with those that are involved in long distance relationships. It is a poem on how love sustains across borders, time zones, long separations, days, months, years… a few aspects of the story are deeply personal to our friends, the rest being poetic license. I’ve tried to add a touch of their organic world and weave in some of the countries they have lived in … I have experimented with the first person narrative style which in this poem, stands for either of the couple speaking to the other.

The theme song of this intimate ceremony was an enchanting instrumental based on Verve’s classic bitter sweet symphony. I have italicized what I borrowed from the song. There’s also a bit of Bizet’s Carmen at the end, which too has special significance.

The last month has been a whirlwind of sorts and when beautiful things happen around you seamlessly, like a river flow or you yield to the river perhaps, then surely, life is blessed.

The poem has been arranged to appear like a wave (best viewed on a large screen or tablet), given that a precious friendship was seeded in the aftermath of a Tsunami.

All photographs used with permission
        
        Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, that's life..
     
      bloat of whale song, birdsong, petulant -

    the rattle of tanks and thunder,

   giant waves cascading cymbals on shores

  for heartbeats lost

   in native lands.

    I'll take you down the only road

     I've ever been down.

      You know the one

       that takes you to the places

          where all the veins meet ..

                  those hopeful rivers

                       merging sinuous sentiment

                  into the shapelessness of ocean

             s   p   a   c   e    beneath the breast,

      a vast rhythmic rise

in tidal moons,  waves licking shores

  now awash in stories loosely anchored

    to transient shoals,

          then exasperated,

              sedimenting the ocean floor

                 in breezy metaphors of flying fish,

               fish like mammals breathing our air ......

             The reef edge was always steeply laced

           in a filigree of the statuesque -

       Coral corralling within aragonite bridal veil,

 feelings in free d

                             i

                              v

                                e

Rewind to retrospect:

     Small Giant Clams

         netted and harboured secrets

           to the future we never dreamed of

              except in stories that read as life itself,

               long after the deed is done.

             Washed ashore briefly on coral sands,

         we were a tsunami of affections

   seeking anchorage to archipelagic sentiment,

creating little islands of purpose,

islands of recreation,

 sand banks of spirituality, floating islands,

   floating plankton, floating algae, swimming

     in the shallows like the time

       I almost drowned     

         in fever

           and pulled you to seaweed depths

             but you came up gasping for air,

               to a soul clarity,                               

                  we both did ..

                  Time flew, like I flew, like a raven

             off the ark, to the ruins

        of an ancient fairy tale,

    where salt water couldn't drown

a covenant struck in a yielding heart,

the only living thing which I thought existed

    in the semi arid of those lifeless blunders

         that overstay their welcome on the dunes.

             The stars of the desert as brilliantly

                  luminous as our eyes, blinking binaries

                      when I looked for you in asterisms and you

                         looked to me

                                                and we

                               found ourselves                       

                                     under a red blanket.

                                          You came with a sprig in your beak

                                                to drier sands,
                        
                                                    where we etched

                                                        the holy books of faith

                                                           to our own religion

                                                              under a blanketing sentiment ..

                                                            feelings relocated, landlocked,

                                                        then clarified in three layers of lake

                                                  amid a thousand cichlid kisses

                                        darting under a blazing fire.

                               Those sun burnished hearts

                   south of the equator strangely rhyme

        the same, while venous blood flow upwards,

  downwards and across

that expansive meter

    of grassland, where we fostered

        the lives of children like it were

           a spiritual mandate.

               Those leached affections pooled

                    into a reservoir of love, a lake

                         that turned clear as crystal    

                              in that turbid genesis ..

                                  the celestial was most surreal          

                                      when I woke one day to the milky way

                                          obscured by the million lights

                                             along a river,

                                         dazzling a grid of avenues and streets

                               and I know that to this layered night

                 was hitched the hem of your sunrise

       and your cape of night stars

the one that would course through time

   to find me with stories

     etched in constellations,

         of warlords and poppy fields

            where the only rebel was the heart

                for it floundered on land carpeted

                    in the brightest, sometimes the whitest

                        snow, ravaged by battle tanks, redeemed

                             by roses along savage roads

                                 and land as soft as noni

                              and my heart yearned

                    under the same sky,            

              yours and mine,

      separated simply

by the geography of employment.

   It takes a while to find one's feet

         in the clayey soil of mangroves

             skirting the bay where tigers

                 tread to glide and humans barely stand,

                       for the passage of time

                             has been cobbled in death

                                  trod by the advancing cavalry of years

                            of those we knew who never grew any younger

                        and now, will never grow older,

               but we had each other,

       our days vivisected

 to a standard operating procedure,   

so we thought, zooming through

  the virtual multiverse        

     which sagely conspired to confine

       breath to national pleura ..

          deaf to the ventilating heart,

              blind to the diminishing 'soul'?

          Are human lives as poetic as mangroves -

      inhaling through aerial roots ?

  Or a stone cold reclining Buddha -

  His holy feet rubbed in gold leaf

     having little use for a Midas touch?

        Illusions of habitat, these ..

           Reality is solely etched in our partings,

              our separations, our prolonged confinements.

                Our measured lives

                    reluctantly succumbed

                        to the everyplace invisible

                           punctuating our complacency,

                              like a sardonic smile

                                  lurking without a body,

                                      seeking host.

                                        The world at its loudest SOS

                                     made every moment a past tense,

                              as crepuscular as terse beliefs

                      situating ambition in twilight, that future we all desire

               but never really have.  So we

    defied time,  shredded tense

   planned a grand escape, to elope

      with the moment itself.

         They told us that

               love ..     is a bohemian child and

                   he never, never knew a law,

                      but strangely, love's law

                         kindled this union as certain as a flame       

                     lights another and coruscates the void.

       That's,  the only road we know,    

the tangible of bright, the space w i t h i n,

   limitless as the horizon on a globe

       I'll take you down

          the only road I've ever been down.

              You know the one that takes you

                  to the places

                        where all the veins meet ..

Reincarnation

Babaganoush ~ We are blessed to have friends that cook and those that cook at our place 🙂
The ocean makes me
want to imagine
reincarnation.
My thoughts
a shoal of -

How does one know
what fish to be ?
The bigger picture
as far as the eye
can see
or as deep,
is a drop of water
under a coverslip ..

When I deliberate
transcendence;
it's simply a measure
of distance - this escape
to the stars

Transformation
has always been
the stuff of atoms
and here I am,
in a world of
limitless
reconfigurations ..
An interesting story from ‘Jerusalem : Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi’