Suchasunset,
yewshouldaseenit, if

you were free to pay attention

it or one similar is trending east
from west on a December
snow track, as the tri-layer cloud
currency whirls in time
passing by,

listen, this sunset today,
on my daughter's birthday,
may I be indulged,
aloud I laugh, I am the guy
with the jinn in a pen of liquid crystal.

ledimbyledimbyledimby
lulabylulaby la la I make my own magic

let me in,
who aart thou crying
let me in,
another I I see, who is whom
in these occurrencies past
times changames,

spin a wish into a tale with no end,
and send out you spiders to signal
see we saw you see, you saw
you know.

This sunset, trite to say, says my
mean feminine blind judge,
whispers, meaning with pathos
contend… stretch the point,
bring it to a head,

and find pathetic you

alone in a wilderness familiar
feeling
okeh, there's
another, an other, feeling, less
disconciliated,
more connected with the convergence
of Jupiter and Saturn,
beyond my sunset
in the foreground,

recall the feeling of painting with wind,
do that again.

Waking with a will to do some good,
for some body,
this one I'm in, first. The body of living
matter being reader to my writer,
finding selves aware of worth,
with no grave weight
in consequence.
-- Boom… with

sci, SCI itself, ence, hence con-science,
know… ah, wait… who first knew?
Lichtenstein vvvery inter-esting,
dots what I am seeing,
RGB dots and CMYK dot
If there must be an idea for any matter to argue
reason, what is first reasonable in reality,
given what we have onboard?
This is 2020, spaceship earth, the only planet,
in the zone where mortal minds make reasonable
arguments prove life worth living, while
living and learning,
some things are evidently known as hows
without my knowing why.
Add water.
Water.
Yes, that's the trick,
mud,
without shape or form
thought matter, dream-stuff, fun-da-mental pass-time,
words of wonder, watch us
flow, fly, paint the patterns pareidolic,
get the idea in getting anything in all the realms
for the poor.

The primary material needed for the process
of humification are plant materials.

From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Humus>

Anthropo - of mankind,
all varieties based on humus-frames.

Of a mind to,
in a mood to, take a chance,

flip the lid, look inside, breadbox-sized holder of more-knowing,
like carried over from earlier news,
old stories restricted around
arguing old men, wombed and un,
all aware the other know nothing
of the mystery
of being me in an I state, interesting,
trust me
true rest is the reason happiness is imagined
worth the effort to pursue.

---
Is there a manual? Are there rules and regulations,
asks the ****** diving past my ified
light in the night of some soul
matter unresolved…

what is this fusion within our ifery;
ahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa are
we words as wise as words were once?
May we mean the magic power,
boo once held?
Boo, right, scared you, triggered that fabled
flight or fight? No?

****, not fight. Stay put. Become stone,
edify the dust in the dry, thirsty realms of reason,

come, let us argue for the truth you know.

Wait, I have a Phrygian cap.
When I wear it I know why.

Why? I think, I know, I know, I am humus, being
formed from the surface dust of all before,
fitted for a task far in the future,
past the edge of Anthropocene piles of fallen
forms of re, reminders, realities, redone redundance,
thump thump thump

secret means to sacred make, set aside.
Single use,
lock and key. See,
open-minded other wise,
wish you knew,
and know, as per the plan, adjusted for flaws
inherent in the aftermath calculation
of weight as a measure, after
gravity was conceived as
fixed force functioning after the strange force
fixed the imbalance and set an edge,
discernible by raw ideas wishing to matter in the after
all,

desire to know, wish to hide, which is safer
now?

---------------

I'm not sleepy, and there ai
n't no place
I'm going to, this is it now, … then I come again, return,
interrupting my self with crosscurrents,
these are those
riptides in opposing forces shifting
enemies
to good fellow earthling survivors, spinning in the system,
pole to pole and back
never the same river twice,
but always the pattern,
meandering,
serpentine, path of least resisting

we know we are of the samesame value,
goodwise. truewise freemade with a will
to live in happy, the state of mind,
ever after all of that…

from now on
whatever ever changes, we are
in the mix,
this is id est time-ated, tict to
silent breathing commas,
in our mutual mind space
aloud
at any given instant
or moment, moment
works instant in season
out of season,
how did you make sense of that?

This way, right.
I knew at the moment then it was past,
this is ever after, never the same,

fluid-ity enticed to artifice interfaces,
knows to gnose, epistemic tehkne
sci-psy-psi

with use, knowing takes on a second nature,
less guessing, let the cloud calculate the tip, wait

what is this tip, this social debt, I owe the server?

Stupid question, certain
impulses
urge me to declare, look it up, but you know,
if you were the server,
you know…

if you were the aimer,
you know,
if you were the trigger, you wait
to be the joke that starts the whole world laughing.

------
Survival of the we-ity bits of wits,
was we an effort
to imagine?

We, the idea. Who imagined that?
I could not form an image,
imagine, yes
form, in form fit an
i-dea
ology ****, where did she come from,
wait, is she the mother of all living?

who told this story, after whatever
resulted in now,
when we know, we all are related,
matrilineally,
mom-wise,
...?
if we were to reason, for a moment,
of the expansive sort, see

without the knack for vision my
people
perish. So seeing eyes and hearing ears,
goodsense forethought, backup
senses

great ideas in the ongoing perfection
of ever after,
post Disney ification of the servant corp,

and creds to Berners-Lee and the CERN
concern for how ideas may
evolve from necessity inventing
Frank Zappa in time to fix Romania's budget.

The merged generations, emerge from first
cold night in the mountains,
announcing,
This is screen-free Sunday.
I say this is the first day of ever after.
I read a bit
-- Infinite Jest, just a stream that contributes,
from time
to time, finity to finity, a dead man's former
mind fitted into words,
emanating from
the audible version of the words processed
in the Nineties, flowing through the
post I-Mac realm of words to the wise
and otherwise,

flooding the lexagraphic learners of grammar
for sense in silence,
self-reading silently,
breathing commas,
allow our pauses to perpetuate se per
selah… say

la la la
as time flows by, like a wild river in the spring,

Infinite Jest, there is a thread
through environs unimaginable to me,
until the inventions were given as inspirations,

did you know, I heard,
Steve Jobs yoosta
stand in the comode,
and flush it, gnoshit. In a state
like meditation,

zoned out of bounds in mere mistaken chance,
ping ping ping

a good idea, a bell of a thought.

We think in words, not all minds do.

Plenty punishments puns provideo please
if -ish is sortalike… shitilised, four syl-lables
la la la
ra ra ra, boom

sort on those, and mix up the story,
in the bubble you be reading in,

give us a universe, fit into the final bubble,
beyond imagining minds,
this world of words.

Here is where we word wise do as we heard,
when we read what the prophets say,
the angels said… re-
conciliation - nation to nation, peace
on earth {as in heaven BTW}
goodwill… the real deal, to fill the flaw, in the law,
which allowed imaginary places power
in carnal minds.

Jesus fixed that. Jah, no joke, he took it,
the joke on me, I traded for the
joke on you, he said,
I heard.

Excuse, accuse, acausal sui generis, me,
so we
may play at being happy, not mad,
glad to be alive
in a state

of grace, total free being, no strings,

save these that tie my shoes
to my prayers's feet, because
sometimes that's what the old ones
said,
when miracles were sparse, due to
scarcity of seed,
such as grew the great cathedrals
and the original PTL Network,
BTW
an entity which seems alive and well,
as well may be with that view of
time and eternity and relatifity…

in such times, prayers need shoes, and
shoes need those worthy to tie them.

We'll see, is it worthy, we, or must it be me;
how would we know if this were worthy
as a place? a time? Would we be
compelled
to admit… worth is what the buyer will bear.
Give it away, loose the peace,
I'd say. If that were you, I'd say, dia-logos,
back and forth,
as we climb a stairway to heaven,
on broken promises and stolen chords,
-- read the news
each step, one closer to over
c'mon
lemme show you where its at, oh child,
some men never learn.

We win, then we don't brag, we jes' be as
we was when first we

left things be. No fuss. No fight. Turn out the light.

Who did you imagine,
when I appeared?
Words and nothing more,
more than you
imagined
much less than you have hoped,
had forethought been your reason
to be.

----
Look,
it is 2020, gnoshit, we are the beings involved

in revolution re
defined,
turn, turn, turn, there is a time
for ever in seasons of ifery
wished in comics

Red Sonya, eh, a Marvel Archetype,
or a thought,
a notion, or a gumption to appear as real,
an angel,

a word to the wise.
Stay alive, don't **** the buzz.

Well.
I'll be ******,
if I
don't survive…

have you
ever
felt that way? That
feels like hell,

right,
but it ain't.