I’m still not sure. I mean that’s not how I write poetry, stuff just comes to me. Sometimes I can decipher what it means instantly, but it has occurred very often that yeas later I’m suddenly omg why didn’t I understand this when I wrote this, that would have been so convenient.
Though in this case, it’s been 27 years and I still don’t know who this Skull guy is, and which borders he defends.
I learned of the kundalini about a year after I wrote this. When I read it back recently of course I made that inescapable connection as well.
If I remember correctly, the situation I was in, was lying on the warm grass somewhere in the kibbutz of Kfar Giladi in the north of Israel. Sometimes bombs would go off in the distance. I jump scared the first time the kibbutz was shaking under a nearby explosion, and was laughed at by a few little kids.
I was in Kfar Giladi, a kibbutz north in Israel, close to the border in the heights, where I was guided to because of wanting to get away, be safe, but having no money and kittutzim being then a rare solution in the west for that sort of thing. It was good to work hard early mornings.
By the way self does not equal other, self is equal in difference to zero/nothing as other.
Self><Other
Looks better too.
What I mean is, there is direct correspondence between self and other, but no direct translation.
Strangely was thinking along the same lines, in a quantum media, that Sartre’s look was demoted to feeling in an age where snakes and other like creatures pre dominated, and after an immense time , Lula’s of struggling exertion lifted that feeling to the heart, and recently traveled that middle placed affect by the top, the top of the Lotus flower.
