Poem for Sunday and Gunston Hall

The Gods Are in the Valley
By Dana Levin

The mind sports god-extensions.

It's the mountain from which
        the tributaries spring: self, self, self, self--

        rivering up
                on curling plumes
        from his elaborate
                head-piece

                of smoke.

His head's on fire.

Like a paleolithic shaman
        working now in the realm of air, he

        folds his hands--

No more casting bones
        for the consulting seeker, this gesture

        seems to mean.
               Your business, his flaming head suggests,

               is with your thought-machine.

        How it churns and churns.

        Lord Should and Not-Enough,
               Mute the Gigantor, looming dumb

               with her stringy hair--

               Deadalive Mom-n-Dad (in the sarcophagi
               of parentheses

               you've placed them)--

He's a yogi, your man
        with a hat of smoke. Serene, chugging out streams

        of constructed air...

Mind's an accident
        of bio-wiring, is one line of thinking.

We're animals that shit out
        consciousness, is another.

The yogi says:
        you must understand yourself

        as projected vapor.
                Thus achieve your

                superpower.

--------

Saturday had absolutely gorgeous weather -- partly cloudy, not too hot, breezy -- so while Adam was working at Photoworks at Glen Echo, the rest of us went to Gunston Hall, which was free for visitors in honor of George Mason Day commemorating the June 1776 ratification of the Virginia Declaration of Rights. We went on a tour of the mansion, walked to the gravesite, and visited the formal gardens (I was also delighted to discover that Mason Neck is in the Brood 2 cicada zone.) There were reenactors including Mason himself, a pair of cooks, and a visitor from Williamsburg demonstrating woodcrafts slaves would have been expected to make, plus Pershings Own Brass Quintet playing music:


18th century reenactors at Gunston Hall.


Robert Watson demonstrating basket weaving in the kitchen yard.


Pershings Own Brass Quintet playing "Simple Gifts."


Students learning to write with quills in the schoolroom.


Chefs demonstrating hearth cooking in the kitchen.


George Mason and his wife Ann greet visitors.


Guests listen to a concert and eat food brought in by the Lions Club.


Here I am with the bust of George -- not as impressive as the full statue in DC where I had my picture taken during the cherry blossom festival.

We got home at the same time Adam did; he needed to go shopping to get ingredients to make Paul a peanut butter cheesecake for Father's Day. Then Adam went out to dinner with friends while the rest of us had ravioli. When Adam returned, he had some problems (read: the kitchen had to be vacuumed) with the cheesecake, and in between that hilarity we watched a couple of episodes of Vicious which went perfectly with household disasters. The Nationals pulled one out, but the Orioles lost on a really dumb play; on Sunday we are going to Baltimore with my parents and in-laws to see the latter play the Red Sox, where I fear both grandfathers will be rooting for Boston!