Madrid: A Letter from Sonoma Grove

pic of a view

“A View from the Fence” Photo Credit: K. Shawn Edgar 2015


Madrid: A Letter from Sonoma Grove

Dear Bruce:

Cat’s on the window seat. Sun’s there too. A warm photon bath. Sebastian loves his quantum of light lounging, restoring his proportional energy. Radiant. The whole scene. Whiskers. Whispers. Waving the reluctant lengths of this day slowly on.

Outside, the helicopter seeds are still. The green canopy is shining. And I think I see Ninja strolling up the sidewalk along Bridgeport Way. No shirt, white skin, white hair high and tight. It’s him. Alone, though. Odd. Ninja, a lone wolf? Sebastian snores. His ears and paws twitch with a dream, dreaming of dancing with the birds.

So many birds here. So many crows. A serial killing of crows. Murder atop murder; oh, the beauty. They soar and talk and appear together as a cloud. A dark mass, speaking its unity.

Picture this: Cascades of black-feathered lava coming over a high mountain cliff. Madrid will be saved by the crows and by the Griminals.

From which it sprang: Madrid from out of Sonoma Grove, a well and its water — flowing from the broken past to the concrete now to the broken future. Madrid, a future split and split again.

Now. We’re walking on the fence as a bridge, encircling the park. Trailers and A-frames patch-worked around the community center in an elegantly disordered fashion. Bruce, you’ve only seen the inside of our trailer. Sorry for the limited perspective. I should’ve posted you outside. On a tree. Or the trailer door. Or on the community center’s uppermost reaches. I guess that explains the need for these letters, an ongoing update for your society. Better letter than never.

From up on the fence you can see glimpses of everything. The naked and half-naked hippies at play. Smoking the herb. Dancing for the Multi-Gods and the Meta-God. Hell, even dancing for the One True God. Yep, dancing for Her too. Stoned for Her. Naked for Her. Masturbating for Her. Procreating for Her. Day and Night. Also, from on the fence, you can see the birthing of puppies, of human spawn, of Earth’s best travelers — the Cats.

Bruce, it’s a thicker sock night. And with that I leave you to your thoughts.

Sincerely,

K. Shawn Edgar | Empath | Dollar Store Demon | Rough Skin Newt

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