Third Dialogue with the Publisher

Questioner: Well, it has been seven months since we last met. You have been busy. And you are in a new location?

Marianne: I have been very busy getting the writer to write. This has not been easy, she seemed to bury herself along with (the novel) PEASANTS AND POETS last September 25. And yes, we are now in the desert. I had to bring her here for her reckoning.

Q: Have you had success?

M: Yes. The final edit of a nine year work is completed and we are at present binding the first edition. We will soon launch gospel of the cells.

Q: Will this book find a burial in the woods too?

M: Never. I think we learned our lesson. But it had to be done. That was the death necessary to bring in the new. We really are pressing into the new mythology …

Q: I’m glad you are back in business.

M: Thank you. It is the business of cells, you see.

Q: I don’t really see…

M: The writer has her muse and the muse is her publisher and we are publishing the efforts of one cell becoming conscious. This is our gospel and it is only one cell in the larger gospel.

Q: I still don’t get what you are saying.

M: You may want to read the book.

Q: Er…

M: We’ll let you know the launch date as soon as our little edition is ready.

IN THE MAKING

Emerged from the underworld
I am different

I once touched the mythologies of centuries
I now know nothing

What was extraordinary
Is now ordinary

Red earth under my finger nails
The sky tingles in my bones

I sleep without memory
I await dreams

The Journey Home

CHRISTMAS, 2008

I stand before the sea
Where fish, pregnant with eggs,
Spawn a new epoch.

My breast presses on the ground of kings
Bringing
Strength to my knees

I stand upon the mesa,
Body sweating the salt of queens
I am ready

My memories spring
From desert stones
Singing

The Poet Speaks

CHRISTMAS EVE, 2008

Turtle Back Mountain

TRUTH OR CONSEQUENCES, NM

All I want for Christmas

Is my muse

Marianne speaks

I have had my refurbishing. The world we are living in is changing rapidly. I don't have much more to say. I guess at the end of it, some will cultivate their gardens. I will sweep the floor.

I am Marianne

Having been found in an abandoned garden last month (I was exposed to the elements for 7 years), I am now being cleaned up and refurbished. It feels good to be home. I feel like singing from La Chanson.

I am! Marianne du Lac, then and now
And within this shimmering spectrum of our circle,
This roundbodied forum, I preside.
Here!
We celebrate the first of our catharses
That began in the crèche of La Calmette
Now!
We feel the release, the hope that
As the Age doth change, we shall be heard.
In that relief our eyes do merge
As One;
One eye panning the wide skies
From this cervical window, sparkling.
Look!
The heavens are crackling with stars pure and new,
Sunrises of one thousand blues,
Watercolored prisms of yellows and golds
That hold, at last, our firmament by day,
I say:
I am filled with a beginner's awe
From all this other world that is our temple
And our home.
I say:
From here I help the priestesses, my sisters,
Find the humanfriend companions of their own
Who, like Pamé are struggling on that aching globe –
O beauteous Earth!
O lost and helpless paradise!
Your children of living flesh and feelings
Are fearful as the Age doth change.
O reckless, quaking time!
O mournful hearts! O apocalyptic orb!
Spitting out the fumes of greed and hate;
Splitting ground, choking atmosphere, Dear MotherGod!
Tell us it is not too late...
As some of these - your children –
Live only to survive
Another test of consciousness
Searching for the something –
For You
For Him
For the Holybreath
To suffuse them with a reason for existence.
O Love!
We are the Guides!
Love!
This is our mission!
Dear human friends, remember us,
Remember and receive us
Through your softening volition.