"Art, like morality, consists of drawing the line somewhere."
--G.K. Chesterton
"The man's body is sacred and the woman's body is sacred.../Each belongs here or anywhere just as much as the well-off, just as much as you."
--Walt Whitman
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According to the Buddha, right speech is a statement that is timely, true, kind, helpful (connected to liberation), and spoken with a mind of good-will. Let us all try to observe this precept.
The day is going to come—it will come—put on your nightgown, put on your fur. And yea unto those who go unclothed, unshod, without fear, fingering the corners of bright countertops
and calmly, absentmindedly, toeing the edges of clouds drifting in a puddle. Put on your deep-sea gear, your flippers, and walk to the end of the driveway.
It will come. Be not afraid to chase large animals. Once, I had a conversation with the eye of a moose, looming wetly through the branches.
I was terrified. I froze. I backed away. I imagined it. And then on the other hand there are those truly fearless: schools of silver minnows darting in and out
of the gills of blue whales—how many invisible organisms do we sustain without knowing it? Our own, for one. Put on your crowded body, like Vallejo,
who pulled the sea over his shoulders in the morning and stepped firmly onto ground. Thus, when the day came, he conducted electricity
perfectly—unknowingly—and wrote by the red light of his teeth after a glass of dark wine. Put on your lampshade. Put on your cage. If, in the shape of a key, the shape of a woman,
a bank of swollen clouds surging over the tree-line, a word basipitally descends break it open: how pome and granate
meet in dense honeycombs, red seeds erupting inside a mouth. And though we lose eleven eyelashes a day by blinking alone we cannot enter the Kingdom,
nor can we move sideways, high on this narrow goat-path, without the proper footgear; a pebble's kicked loose, and the echo returning from the ravine
sounds like an avalanche, and is. Put on your helmet. Take off your clothes. If anyone even thinks about laughing it will be
the end of us—Rita, hand over the kazoo. Thank you. Now hand over the other one. Good. And in case of an emergency realize, quickly,
there is no emergency and move on. Like a thief in the night the day came. Then night came, and emptied out its thieves into the furious sunlight.