Stein TOAD FROG


	TOAD FROG (from theforestforthetrees) Charles Stein the toad frog god dry wet sitter in the water sitter in the mud sitter in the sunlight sitter on the road Dusty. Muddy. * The Fog wants to be People The Ocean wants to be Fog * The Mud IS a frog The Dust IS a toad * the road runs both ways * The light that couples the microscopic sudz beads is the glad broad space of rays released from the toad frog god fog bog * Down the shaft the reflected sun in the pool hole is the light released from water’s matter by the gaze of water itself —the watery eye * the frog in the light is a god the light in the mud is the frog’s sodden eye on the road the toad’s dry lid * In "Man" the whole frog In "Man" the whole bird * (Huge, the bird whose wheels shoot light—) But if broad space ray didn’t beat in frog’s wet eye? And if the little beads of muddy sudz or tarlike clumps didn’t— weren’t—? Down in the Avenues where life is rank the notches of pain increasing off the dial, huge abdominal potomotherions coiling in the meshes anxious to emote Will— diving, diving… How could vermillion bird leap from the hoop into rainbow arches? How broad sky expand—whole field one eye? —the moments beat eternity out on the dumb drum skin’s taut head? —the bulb dissolve in the field? —the empty water shout with gold white glory? * Bird leaps beyond rainbow, dissolves in the aura it emanates into the space it threw out first * "You have to leap into your own foot" * Reflective baffles cover the light whose movement is the soul of blessings opening from the day and taking misery back into luminous meshes— Don’t think beyond the visionary thought dissolving (in) its own embrace, the quiet of an empty bottom— * All the rays converge on one frog one center but then the frog returns upon the sources that conform it rides above the night above the volleying starwheels nexal pathrays— gobbling the fiery rings of titanic cities gleaming over their bays in glob frog eye mouth * Every step compounds the road The reach distends the goal A thousand frog kings up on a thousand pod thrones * What animal, in spirit, is the Will? The Lion? Owl? The Eagle or the Bear? Is it the Lion, gazing across the red savannah holding itself compact until its moment? Is it the Owl, ominous on its purchase prefiguring sonic rings and swooping hoots? Or the Eagle, high above the scene, whose hook beak gaze isolates with rigorous selection one from a myriad of points in victim space? Or the Bear, swiftest lumberer, that never leaves the ground but knows its place? Does each, with eternal choice, contrive its nature? Take its space on the cosmic bench in a gesture that sweeps out a curve across the acts of every eagle, lion, owl or bear? Thus time remembers an event that never happened spilling its famous river down the plane; so every apparent nature seems to retroject a being whose being its being seems to remember, (every entity implicate in the first) the stain of Being itself as primal act ‘cross all apparency <— Back to theforestforthetrees