Cloudland Daniel Kneads….

Note: This isn’t even an unedited first draft. Rather, it’s playing with images while waiting to hear from the subjects of my incessant, unrequited outreach, none thus far incited to do anything to speak of in prosaic language. [Pause.] About our horrid momentum. detail&mid=DBF29D1B51F5A9330C84DBF29D1B51F5A9330C84

[Long pause.]

Cloudland Daniel Kneads…. 1#view=detail&mid=6C9315272CA97D66C8156C9315272CA97D66C815
by Oxman for Lauren Redniss

Elton John’s song above is… truly above and beyond our mundane troubles. But it, somehow, gives me entry into what’s important at

For any state whatsoever. All things counter, original, spare, strange. The whole world.

The first thing I ask you to understand is that the electoral arena in California will provide no relief, no hope… no anything worth the heartbeats… unless cloudland is embraced, “cloudland” being the realm of the poetic imagination. And that for me to elaborate on that I’m going to need to have a leisurely discussion with you, with ample time and energy set aside for obligatory, in-depth Q&A. And — and this is crucial — with the serious intention to make ongoing follow-up talk a part of your agenda for the coming week or so.

Discussion? About what? About an unprecedented “plan for action” which follows a fresh paradigm. One which carries the imprimatur of the late Howard Zinn, who was a great appreciator of the role that cloudland could play in activism.

With that in mind, I highly recommend that you not read what’s below before telephoning me to set up a rendezvous. I mean, it’s okay to go ahead and read the blah blah first, but know that nothing can substitute for in-person eyeball to eyeball contact on this count. Cut me into your busy schedule post haste, that’s the point. We have deadlines. And nothing’s been done to date with words at a distance.

We need to knead concerned citizens into shape. Chickens running around with their heads cut off.

A miracle is begged for. [Pause.] Miracles cost no money. And those which are worth the heartbeats involve no sacrifice.

Activists are proceeding at the pace of an arthritic snail, going nowhere.

Edna began writing when she was still a teenager. 1#view=detail&mid=6C9315272CA97D66C8156C9315272CA97D66C815

When I was not quite yet eight-years-old — shortly before she passed — up at Steepletop… I sat down at the bottom of those steps while Edna recited

The world stands out on either side
No wider than the heart is wide;
Above the world is stretched the sky,—
No higher than the soul is high.
The heart can push the sea and land
Farther away on either hand;
The soul can split the sky in two,
And let the face of God shine through

Many years later Philip Larkin, in overcast Hull made shadows hold their breath for me:

Lambs that learn to walk in snow
When their bleating clouds the air
Meet a vast unwelcome, know
Nothing but a sunless glare.
Newly stumbling to and fro
All they find, outside the fold,
Is a wretched width of cold.

As they wait beside the ewe,
Her fleeces wetly caked, there lies
Hidden round them, waiting too,
Earth’s immeasureable surprise.
They could not grasp it if they knew,
What so soon will wake and grow
Utterly unlike the snow

Lauren would understand and be interested. RM=VIRE1#view=detail&mid=919AE207DE3E8798500C919AE207DE3E8798500C