It’s been over a year now
since I had my mystical experience
sitting among the old folks in Wyatt’s Cafeteria
eating my fried chicken,
over a year since I saw those silver lines
extending from my heart to every person in
the room, linking us.
And knew that those lines existed in another
dimension
and that those lines were poetry.
Now, I sit here in the same place once again
And the old folks are moving through the
serving line
or seated over their dinners chatting in their flat,
small voices.
There’s a resonance in the room
And those silver lines are moving between us
as before.
And watching them I know
that poetry has a subtle existence
that is prior to any word, sound, meaning,
prior to anything now existing.
(An old man at the next table
bends double, coughing,
then straightens with a gasp
and the talk goes on.)
-Albert Huffstickler
Art Credit: https://awakeningclaritynow.com/indras-net-we-are-the-infinite-one/
Other poems by Albert Huffstickler on this site include “The Cure,” “I Dreamed I Lived in Austin,” “The Lost Poem,”
“We Forget We’re Mostly Water,” “The Song,” “Laundromat,” and “Dishwashers and Other Forgotten Angels.”
If you enjoyed this post, you might also like to read We Are the Mycelium.
