III. The Conversation at the Funeral
Joseph Campbell dabbles long
until his dabbles dapple
over every myth and faeble
now with Hello-Kitty-cute
anachronisms forged
of this thinly-veiled dogged heritage
he's running from,
his Katholische Theoligischen
Annahme: that quest to hold no
Catholic theological assumptions,
blinds him to his own living, cosmic
Christ like every other sage
who reacted to a church that no one
else could know about
in our age
but us,
especially native tribes who spin myths
like prophecies messianic,
had pagans had some Jewish texts.
The Myth
about a dying hero spelunking
the deep, dark, dank black lagoon
to die
for those of us who would die.
And so
Joe's own host of centrals share one face:
a Catholic Christ,
who plays in ten thousand places
-- when I lie down, when I sit down, when I rise --
rather than ten thousand faces playing in the Christ he claims divides
into holistic forms:
shares.
Company.
That's neither here nor
there in my back yard,
the Spirit of Life who made and sustains
the neighbor's twenty-pound cat I've named Citrinus
for reasons tinted obvious
feels something wrong and groans and cannot
fix the waiting Spirit's groan so chose some lesser action
elects a broken road that made him
murder a tiny bunny
made him
amplify the groaning
of his selfsame spirit of
life.
and the groan
he'll try to fix again
tomorrow
rather than groan himself.
But the spirit's there, The
Word within all things,
both times
and weeps.
Joe said, 'A man once had a boy
who said, 'Hold my little bird,
my father,
hear his birdie song.'
But the man ignored his son until
he couldn't any longer,
then took the bird and snapped its neck.
when he killed the bird,' old Campbell said,
'He killed the song, and so himself.'
Split,
divide the hemispheres,
a seismic
cosmic diagram of crusted molten cores
II. Meal
(that avocado half on your plate there, let me have that for a sec, just a second, I'll give it back right after a bite)
III. Convo
Take the
straightest distance twixt two points:
from mine and then to yours
a hole -- we dig to China –
there
like here
some larger kith and kin of Citrinus
offs a larger kith and kin of bunny
II. Meal
(Christopher-named Tigger eats what Christopher named Kanga)