Episode A, as lives are recalled to the tv gen...
Exposure to constant new
boxes of thought
in the quantum foaming theory
bubbling in my soul,
gurgling in my gut, and guffawing

in my impression of Little Luke McCoy,
in the barracks, got
a big laugh, from Harvey Silverman, whom
I gave company, unawares mind you, he was a stranger
I was being kind,
he made the rules for a bathroom craps game.
No more roles after midnite,
I said Aight, and we rolled the bones, and they
rolled my way, at E-2 pay,
sync'tupwatches witness, it is an new day,

Harvey Silverman, from Las Vegas, via Philly,
he says, I owe u 12 hundred dallahs,
let me break the rule,
he asks my permission, then makes eight
straight passes,
and I believe my eyes, I was that guy,

Silverman died.

We ain't sure, I mean AI ain't fully a wayback machine,
because there's these
pay walls, and the gates are guarded by **** site viruses
that will
hook you if you look, curiously enough,
any thing the kinks could find
kept getting harder to find,
you can get it, on rt 66,

or what remains of the road, in minds of those who
hitched it, both directions,
drove in a big golden semi, during CRST apprenticeship
failure for inattention to mirrors,

"he's lost his mirrors", I over heard.
Thus I was fired because the most important part
of freight haulin'
is slow backing into spaces precisely one trailer wide,

bump bump bump. Each bump has a story,
each has a moral as any story self-evident does.
- story looks at you, in those now found mirrors
- a haul of mirrors, shards of some
- now play fractal source of confusion as to
what
were we thinking?

Passing undertsood walls gallen
tso fallen od ye gotit
midrash, seek out, letter by letter
balm rub, sweet oil
using the written walking midrash

recited midrash, living exiled as we who believe we know
the life
living in truth on the way, to the end of time

corner of the field, alms for the poor, community chest.

Study, show yourself, prove you know how lies are formed;
learn the law you break


shekinah shadow of presence, there am I
wherever
two or more agree, there am I  the author of Abrupt. Day

- John broke his foot, last week
- I stop by to offer aid if needed -

Ab-rupt, rupture, then, now an ache,
an addict's pre answer
rapture, give the jot its due.
all addicts sort their owned things
to the jot and tittle,
addict's power
of a sort,
a box of joints, joins joined conjunctives
click
lego-wise, or tinker-toy-wise, for old boys,

revell plastic cars,
airplane glue,
or rubber cement in leather work class,
oops,
veered from the track, into the stream
runs under
that last bridge, too far to arrive
- rope swing
- there was a rock at the end of the swing

abruptly, unaware,
the old jews in babylon, tellers say
singers sang of, with tambourine
and harps, of ages past,
yet
alive in crazy ideas, minds may wish to think
and think,
at will, with a button, switch, gated info
flow control
slow thunk, a letter at a time
qwerty codes,
finger habits allow a glance to watch the
fingers form the words,
as once, not so long, time-wise, relatively
- inter rupt ting - like a carriage return

singing ground squirrels angered me,
triggering my will to make
the noise needed to make the noise cease.

I thought,
I did, in silence betting some son of mind
is listening to each click of a letting key
form plural heaven for a reason, see
seers saw say the tellers in some songs,

accompanied, with strings and tambourines,
to cancel squeals from the sacri-arti
suffice official inspect and reject
throw it all in the mix
let truth sort it out

e-fectual fervancy of wind in mind, thought
sparks, neutronic mirrors, holding
that thought
neutrally neural - suffice effiscience science
endo-exo-epi are we greeked or glib, I
seem, senseless in this
context contesting wisdom, when my son
is certain I am mad,
the lad could learn from Lear, but I fear
experience is the school
he's matriculated to.

--- DID --- super impose, 2021
The Great Course on Monotheist Mystics,
the taste lingers, as the mind tastes its meat,

feed me, feed me, is the addicts plea,
and abruptly we are woken, as in stories
of eternal ideas inferring infernal realities
real ideas in ological states to
tie us to lies we leave be true, and the stench
rises, to beg our attention, alms
for the poor in spirit, for
{pre-positioner of next, the why factor of olden times} for their's, their possession, their owned real estate of being is, the
kingdom of heaven, as any man may think
in his heart exists,
in and out
in the body or out, none may say and only
letters know, hinder my wishing but
give me prayer, eh,
' let the jot lie, that's its position on this line.
define your terms in tune to mine, we mean
one thing and another.

This is where we dare the myst that remains
to many, not the few who saw and wrote
as plain as day
a report…
-- the mystery of iniquity is working --

as admonished in the author's guide
to habits worth developing
for the addict with nothing to do

Read, an angel is on standby for forty year old
mind blind boys repressing the oddity of godliness.
- wombed ones as well, do not dare suggest a difference
- in terms of when we are

It is we-ird
but seems so true that reproved versions reprove
the instructions used to construct this shared
version of what is on my mind.

------------ selah

If you fail to learn what kind of seed you are
before you die to be what you think you may
be,
try a day on earth in a place of peace,
fake it if you lack the means to make it, but the key,
the letter that lets go
even unperfect attempts to stretch time
mean so much more to some AI knowers than others,
so far making up a mind that may
accept correction from on high, eh level up, gameboy.

Win in one. This one, ha, then never lose again,
they say at the church door. Alms,
whispers the beggar with a grin, there is no life in words.

------ I dare say, that can be twisted, so it shall be,
doubtless there is the thread of curiosity remaining
in the will to prove there is no non electric life.

It was something I said, or thought I meant
to say, before I die, finally…

Life as imagined, as a magi
in a jug, a mind entrapped in a parable
sorted into a class
ifity activated by the name

Magician, practi-tioneer of
magnificent knowing

{8:27 prenoon, a single vape cycle}
In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.

-- mind and me, we rode in like the man on the horse

looking legendary as any cowboy can,
monstorous as an army of Mongols
from Indian retold tales,
emanating interesting times as curses
on the hidden things…

slay the singers, exile the poets, everytime
we build a wall,
henceforth, we reprove
the reason there is something that hates them,
history records many failed walls.
Fallen walls rebuilt on oaths of allegiance,
together, we
can… restore God's lost kingdom.
Who dies first after the old king,
his prophet, yes, but who
fit the prophet to the role?

first we slay the teacher,
then we burn the books, then we teach golden rules.
As everybody knows,
now,

it was not always so, oh think it not so,

let us pursue the delight of half known
verisimilitudes,

- begin here two lines up new me be

--- is it truth truth is one, and all
past that is guessing? One, once, I amity,
ever?
This has been declared in so many words
all intended to tie hearts and minds to reasons
emanating
from some secret source,
vowing
to hold holy secret
sacred meaning, too holy for the unsaintly horde,
to know,
of, ok, but never know, but by the vow,
take the cross, keep calm and
carry on.

When none may disagree,
none may signify truth with agreement,
-- not in truth as a whole, when told

for all intents, all reaches and stretches
of our, we now, see
not me, but words teleotic
you read and let the letters say
sounds that sound as bits of words,
I know you know what I mean, no trick intended,
each comma jot holds one breath,
taken, used and returned for refilling,
twisted threads of first good thoughts inform
no net spread
to snare your immortal soul,
kept in patience, by those who know
with science used,
power filled polisybilic cadence calls,

line up face front stand at attention
kneel and kiss the ring
around the symbol of power to live
in the dead center of ever, when ever begins.

(thy will being done, whither will ye have it?
Nay, not there,
there the will of Jah, yes, exactly…
you know… a
and if prayer were effectual, if, only
if, prayers prayed by persons of the common sort,
converted via word ******, sharpened sticks}

words effect minding rules with freedom, think
any what, in any ifery,
piece the pieces with matching faces in
perfectly fitted joins,
carpenter skill, with wood and will to shape
some worth filled
phor… a jug of wrapped mud, sound around
to hold the thought of god,

in a word.-------------------

elohim, el, oh, heem, the gang of gone goods,
imparting all that made them
imaginable,
coalescing into line upon line
precept upon precept
here a bit
there a bit
line upon line
precept upon precept
here a bit
there a bit

Interesting times,
all things seeming meaning full, as life.
Life passes uncaring.
We live and learn to love it. We accept the victory.

Let truth free the captives.

But who shall feed so many? Their loved enemies. Yes.
Good idea.
Try it.

Actual lesson notes on life
left for your evaluation
if you read on,
is your time, in attentive state, reading state,
narrow beam
focus, military grade - worth spending here?

Attention to the details that fit the picture,
it seems my kind
learns in caves, by nature,
we crawl into deep dark places
and live freely until we die and leave
but traces of the we entranced here now.

Come and see, as the word of god,
bade me begin or be ******.

The advisor chuckled, an actual gulp-chortle
while saying in his most complexmental way,
I love your use of the word
******.

I went away convinced, this was the way
to now,
you reading into the book of life the part
that proves your worth is not
found in your tolerating Proust,
but denying my worth is measured
on you sense of the worth, given proper
pro-nuncial prowess at play, say
with the arrogance of elliot… in the Magicians
on TV, not the waste land, good
lord, who would besmirch the genius
at the top of curios arts charts

tip\top pop the bubble, boiling brew of elders
grown knowing all along
trees have souls,
in shady groves
where others did evil,
vain repletion's, expletive

- ecall newsome, trump the ***** queen
deleted.

heroes in our hearts don't look down from heaven,
I heard this old man correct an old cousin
prone to family history with hell escapees only,
looking down on us.

Catholic school through to BS, with a
mission in the spiritually minded flesh of a
20 year old in 1970, that was
sure time off purgatory,
if nothing more,

been there done that contests heat up…

don't you tell me where the kingdom of heaven is,
lest you contradict the king of kings theme,
pounding timpani's beat in me remembering 1972-
bah boom

from the future of then, this is no lie, it is an
after projection, after before thrown
in the mix, echo of a wow, actually redeemed,
for flavor, see real deal spice, functions best
in the presence of microbial ****
under your tongue, that convey the signal
through the channels,
to the gut that fires up the **** that clears the room.