The Bite of Eden: Mowing the Lawn

 

The Bite Of Eden (Mowing the Lawn)

 

 

I lived in a tiny world of Australia, through the riverbeds and tight tropical climate of dusty terrains and wet for loins of life specification as the kangaroo, or a dweller with no legs and no ambition but to survive. I had to be careful when I walked in the front yard. I never knew what complication I would face of a home I thought as Home. Otherwise, I was searching for a complacent residence, a dream-maker that came with wheels and sped throughout the night as a wonder less traveler on foot. But I remained at rest, with family a few feet away, enough negated energy to catch up to the mistake, of something so abstract, not real enough to comfort that … comedy is the real satisfaction and the variant strand of life responsibility. Appropriation is my most human weakness, another different stride that accompanies the age of reason. I know, nobody can escape Reason; its’ past shadows even cross the Vatican.

           

…However, Vatican is faraway, just my imagination running away from me. My prospect is the shrinking water supply and myself; with my experiences with snakes I learned to freeze like a crushed, metal Budweiser can, lying in the street. In the street it is very hot and wet like the sweat of a Venetian babe. The dances and storms draw climate and the people in uniform climb the staircase where the buildings curve at elongated pace. The streets are longer, faces longer, but the faces of people have that dusty obscurity where breath is nothing but the true clues of ownership to clothes attire, spending every ounce of energy to make it material, a concept unrealized, a day in the life when T.V assumed its complacency, every ounce of the world compromised against itself,

the embodying after-skin.

 

 

 

I still thought about the snake and as it slithered its tail across my path. …After all I only wanted to cut the grass and to draw onto the next activity. I knew this, so I began to investigate a strategy. “There must be a magic wall”, I thought. Somewhere in my mind there has to be a way out of this conversation, out of this rambling angel, a dream for a playground, a subscription to the things that end volition and the thought that commends, why a Zen like me to taste the truth of the apple tree.

 

I avoided the bite but still apprehensive about cutting through the grass. I had a tent to return to but decided I needed to get the job done. I forgot about the snake and cut the grass in every direction.

            Grass mowing has its’ consequences. Sticks and stones, and every piece of fabrication, sweat of man-made horticulture, step-by-step I mend my way with the eternal lawnmower, the creator and destroyer of worlds. Mowing the assumption that

the plough allows mechanic revolution and the person allows the fusion

to take intuition and work fair, all because of a snake and its’ infinite mystery, its persuasion of color. Although once a stranger now a friend, the snake became my own mediocrity of green emotions and appetites. The mowing was essential once I wiped the sweat off of my brow. After I had finished mowing the grass, the snake investigated its’ own path, and I took my own path. I was not about to let Fear get in the way of a hard days work.

 

 

 

Reviews

[Ken Simm.]

Excellent. A rumage and a cataract. The garden of Eden indeed. Very Hermetic.

[Blackbirdsong]

Wow Lionel...another masterpiece that you should have put here long ago...where have you been hiding these things?

"I know, nobody can escape Reason; its' past shadows even cross the Vatican." Love the whimsy of that line.

This whole passage is just brilliant -

" Grass mowing has its' consequences. Sticks and stones, and every piece of fabrication, sweat of man-made horticulture, step-by-step I mend my way with the eternal lawnmower, the creator and destroyer of worlds. Mowing the assumption that

the plough allows mechanic revolution and the person allows the fusion

to take intuition and work fair, all because of a snake and its' infinite mystery, its persuasion of color. Although once a stranger now a friend, the snake became my own mediocrity of green emotions and appetites. The mowing was essential once I wiped the sweat off of my brow. After I had finished mowing the grass, the snake investigated its' own path, and I took my own path. I was not about to let Fear get in the way of a hard days work."