There are these tribes people
Entrenched in the shades and shadows of the jungle.
They are called: the hunters of the jaguar.
They ingest a hallucinogenic substance
and shape-shift into the magnificent creature… The jaguar.
A camera crew captured this phenomenon.
As they moved, at first, sort of decrepit.
They were completely one with it.
I remembered this…
As the mescaline turned the world to High Strangeness.
All neon like in the exhilaration
Of micro dot explosions in every segment of perception.
As the coach shook my hand
And I moved smooth… To face last year’s state champion.
In something like an ultraviolence of happening without happenstance.
* * *
(Unbeknownst to me, this would be my final HS activity… but that I would like to share in the next segment of this series. FYM. Such an interesting name for a series. “Fuck You Mane.” (laughter). I have seen some authors who have tentatively named there work in equivalent ways.
… So yeah… I did some sports. I tried wrestling, based on my uncles stories about being on the wrestling team in reform school. (there were some serious criminals on that team.) I viewed sports as the way of the warrior and the path of the vision quest, not about winning and losing. I believe my intent transformed these activities into magical workings, as all activities may be transformed into magical operations, and I learned to become the jaguar, which is something I transferred both to my existential sphere, and to the writing. The word jaguar comes from the indigenous word yaguar, which means: he who kills with one leap. )