I agreed to read, thinking
September signals change.
And I imagined seeing it change.

September now, hints of winter,
and of fire season if those latter rains tarry.

Last year they got here during Burning Man,
we saw the wannabes all flee the mud, on TV,
we saw the children of our youth,
roll in it with laughing abandon,
real life,
this year, the rain is just as likely,
so we pay attention to the whole idea,
seasons, on the cosmic scale, now after

the fullness of times is on us, nine billion
others in the etherical medium tying us up,
using us as staves binding broken bones,

fundamental bottom thought, structured
stories said to have inspired our dormers,
and our seven gables,
and our back doors,
and our cellars,
each we must wonder at once, ¿?
are we involved in production, or consumption,
supply side or inside out hungry ghostly chances,

bemusing the beguiled with smile lacking cause,
acausal confrontation with frowning judgmental

adverse reactions to sublime subtlety suggesting,

take and eat, in truth, imagine yourself seeing,
first time, the true beauty of the elephant
reaching past low hung fruits to take
a taste from the high branches.

Shining thing from Eber's legendary written
rules, all translating into knowing how we live
and have our being in times you must imagine

looking back, magi, always were apparent
in the mix of biographies preserved to lead us

let us, all with the will to learn, learn if
we think
we may imagine, using mere words, and tech
so new that you may not reckon how far we are

from yesterday.

when I agreed to read,

because I never read
The Brothers Karamazov,
so  I agreed to read, and
I read it, upto the bitten finger,
if you know the story, and a little more,
another chapter or two, awaiting the death
of the elderly sage of Ruskie Orthodoxy,
whose name is fictional, of course,
but he knew he could walk into the woods,
and live free using known grown means
to quell the thirst from mushrooms,
with buckthorn berry wine,
imaginable
in the Cuyamaca boulders and pines.

Here, with me, a display of color harmony,
the ribbonwoods bloom a creamy burst,
and as suddenly, begin to rust, autumnal colors.
Not New England bright, more subtil by far,
desert shades, surrounded in evergreens,
manzanitas and hemlocks and pines and black oaks.

Time, at the level of cosmic clocks, as a thought
passes faster as we expand into our ever after
thought, as we compress to spring after winter,

feeling years as days, morning childhood,
noon survival, evening to cool starry night
of knowing which lies were used to turn me,
on, or around about
which truth alerted me to nonconformity,
be the new thing, the new old form mankind,
be the representative of we, the people in time,

who played the fools who glorify war, for a season,
while we are lacking learning, having never known,
why we never put our minds to final form, grown
courses taken eroding finished soils to feed seas,
paths past nonsense, past purpose proposed
to be supposed by all who follow, thinking

should we agree, geistlich at this distance,
using English with poetic twists allowed by license,
vide licet, showing all with eyes allowed to notice,
viz.
I am native to this planet, I am part of what is changed,
I am a peasant child from the times of industrial efforting,

establishing the profit motive any tree imagines,
blooming, superfluous fruit for any with appetite,
what is right in life is not pain, but persistant will

to wait on next, imagining ever
experienced on earth,
as it must be where prayers are all answered, yes,
most certainly, on earth as in ever, fires included,

functional consumption and transition into next
now,
as you think I imagined magi, and found I did, imagine
that.

Certain persons among us make claims to knowledge
kept from any who cannot imagine that truth,
we, the every day curious kinds of people,
skeptic
become habitually drawn to knowers claiming right
to tell us one may see what one believes, nought else.

Living words, in message form, why must I see angels?
Whose mind may we leave be in us, if not this one,
alive in constant readiness to give a word umph,

past last clear preconception of a call to pay attention,
today, while it remains time out to redeem in meditation,

be tween one mind's aura and another's… imagining
we see light reflected from sources undetected,
so dark sayings illuminate our directed steps,
or we so say, for we believe we know, now,

is when today occurs, and when the code is broken,
hidden meaning sought with Frankl and Anne Frank,
and dramatic reenactments of battles that inspire
judgment, know who won by who continues being,
any with a will to prove a worth, as a gift in minded
heart felt will to say
we may pay more attention
than we are willing to take.

Easily, given meaningful words… these are the medium,
this is the way we conjoin minds in hives intending
to fill to overflowing, so long as flowers need ***.

==========
Cultured pearls.

Irritatingly apparently real
as any brought to become
by merest of coincidental

rare afflictions with beauty
the initial aim, with hands
put to guiding use, knowing

the growing of the nacre
in total absence of sunlight,
of course, we can't know why.

--------

Words authored in ages past,
during times of congregation,

calling all sundry formations
from noise to align as defined

with hands commands, come
and see the other side of all and
more besides, piling mountains
as clouds in late summer, promise
latter rains on latterly sown seed.

The interpretation of this situation,
now, and not another time, here,
where your mind asks mine explain,

lay it out, tell the whole of knowing
now is when we become our self,
first formed from stories told us,

as true, to assume in storyland,
we can talk with Nature as an entity
who uses words as you would, should
you awaken in a jungle denser,

made afraid for the moment, mind
time pause, now, we think, how say
the sages past, must we treat
with care for fear of proud wrath,

encultured hero worth, a weight
in the bag we measure worth with,

each kernal of barley corn, one third
the inch, which is never taken
for a mile, given will to stretch
the wonder of learning for ever's sake,

indeed, to take each one in a myriad
of steps while helping an officer
of the law of Rome, obey it,
by keeping the peace and pace.

So, long from now, these same words
may live on loosely linked orders
of natural progression as we learn,

stories told as true as plausible,
often include impossibly fortuitous
interference in this clouded realm
of certain reasons asking rational

division of soul and spirit, despite
the rule of Rome, in year 869
of this present domineering age,
whereby soul is spirit and vice versa.

Rightly divided now, by me, today,
boldly going, where some crazies
came before me, to make me pay
attention to the will called why.

Jesus, really? Must we accept
the testimony of mystics, as more
than guessing based
on earlier guesses, up from exstacy,
beyond the first guesses given theory,
suppose, we all pretend to know,
as we are reared to become
those who teach to those so lost,
that only our knowing known stories,
can redeem their worth to truth itself.

----------
Listen, let this mindform in you, think.

In creation mode of mind,
given words for anything named
in the world wide web of knowledge,

arranged in searchible stacks, related,
tied religiously to certainty beyond Delphi,

we trust, as we trusted kings, when few
could gainsay prophecy interpreted true,
after the epoch last ended began, in truth,

measure for measure, an inch is always
three barley corns wide, no more
nor less a length, may be taken for a mile,

as we rethink the idea, charity, feeding needs,
agape, we say means charity, highest form
of love one may bestow, at no cost, true,

charity for which we pay is not the same idea.

I come to offer thought through thoroughly
sieved shards of crystaline ***** scried into,
see, there, that occlusion? that is what you

can never know, until the guru says you do.

--------------
Yes, I do recall verses written,
before exposure to naked truth
that war's glory is as the emperor's
lastest fashions, lasterly erroneously

crowning a child's sense of silliness,
when I was a child, I thought, and still
think many thoughts, what to write,
what to let slip away,
what must be folded to put away,
later, imagining I ask your eyes to see,
leaving no description light might show
either real or made up on purpose to make

believable the reason children are exposed,
to Grimm collections of secular wisdom,
unholy impossible animations, yet,

by the time, I got to Phoenix, I was knowing
days depend from days past, pendulating,
swinging arcing swipes past all pretensions,

loose the bonds of wickedness, comb
the tangled locks of dreads,
Rastaferian dread, wisdom
claimed aligned with wonder weedlike
in trembling fear of hell to pay,
what if we make believe, we two, and you,
we come to here, along these lines, thinking

why is not a factor after all is said and done,
plain and smooth, polished to high sheen,

wedoms welcome any with means to make sense,
share our dreads, show us what it is you think
you know, about the ways truth, per se, makes
where no ways was,
moments earlier, pasts past, perhaps,
happening in all that happens, once mayhap

to you,
aha,
I see, you say, lying with your eyes, but knowing
I can imagine common sense, comfort, ease,
true rest in care akin to told of care in story,

we gather to remind our hive, here we make honey.


------------
Watch the dancing bees, rethink
how few persons on earth can think
there is no mind involved in thinking that,

planning means to become superfluous,
dripping sweet memories, in precious
pricey processes of transubstantiation,

sweet, we say, at a fine fix on the flaw,
we all lie, see, we say we know, we lie,

we lieve being true, as good and useful,
the ology of everything pundits preach,
and teach that we may obey, knowing,

no lie forms from truth's first will to tell,
taste and see,
swallow, and wait… at antepartum,
all we think to ask turns bitter in the belly.

re reading readily past and present read
read real as a word for what we do
so steadily balancing known on known,
thinking some things at the same instance,
we knew the will to tell, and knew as well
the will to listen, to learn while thinking,

to me
this means that

losing my breath, reaching your reason,
tuning our times to the musical mathematics

all matter is dust, all thought is spirit,
all memory has a price prepaid, the flaw
we may imagine,
maya, Kabir suggests to Rumi, and I ask
might justice mean what Karma does?

The nameless suggester, be it muse, or
some detail in a day so long ago it seems

forever, onward, outward, inward fretting,
lack of knowledge, sublime serpentine bending,

folding, creasing, not snapping in rigged tension,
compliantly bending the knee, image-visualize,
meandering streams of everything,
realize our link to thinking marked taboo.

Discover why secrets are so typical of life,
in bubbles where our sapien relatives live.

All men, wombed or un, catch phrase, me
included, learn in sequence, literally faster
whosoever
than at any time in ever before, we know more,
truth, conscious use of useful knowings shared,

to our advantage, supposing us capable of leading,
while braying mindlessly like a
sotted piper, blues on a fancy Hohner, here we go

asking reception signaling the surfing analogy,
lift us as might those children we see ourselves, once,
imagine turning at the first star on the left, using
Peter Pan, then Peter Principle, from Canada,
Laurence J. Peter, appears in color,
dressed in polyester 70's gear,
as would have looked cool on TV
while McLuhan was doing his thing.

Fit the mind into the hard problem,
let it seem the spiritual force, why

imagine satisfaction while satisfied?
What a man hath, why doth he hope for?

As when Lobsters stack for social duty,
forming hierarchies, certainly,

Delphic precepts urge recalling 1, 2,  3,

know how empty you are, know how small
your little lamp, asking measure mete,

nothing spilled remains thine own, surplus
is for general consumption, evolution taxes

the comprehension of the universal conversation,

we find old rules used to form governable clusters
of us, tabula rosa versions of each of us,
mirroring imaginable completed visions,

like Google Earth, eh,
imagine, we live there, and where we see from
is this imagined plateau in nowhere, really, just
imagine, spell binding,

how newly known is all we know, each time,
the economy collapses and we are left wondering,

was the pile wrong at the bottom, first test of load
bearing Lobster pride for being most useful, calling all

come climb on my back and become the memory,
of original reasons used to do truly childish things.

Roof high stilts was one we succeeded at,
having seen it done, doing it was nothing,
couple of old two by fours, common
artifacts in growing towns out west… nailgun
misfires come to the magnet rescued
from the uncoiled motor
on the old concrete mixer. Grandpa had hammers.

Life with electricity, safe bet, you never had no choice
but to live in a world without power… industrial strength,

but the stacking order adaptations from King of the Hill,
does evolve a kind of specific survival set of reasons,
make do, make things change, to become ladders,
and then stilts, to walk along the Al Can Highway
waving at the tourists on their way to Vegas,
as society evolved around us, hiding wrecking yards,

all the weights in the bag, when balance is primary,
all the weights prove their worth, be it true to fair.

We can think we know less than we must to finish,
but that is maya talking, the cloud of unknowable's
tyrannical kind of order,
attempting to dam the flow…

first king reason, ready to speak up and say, I know.
I know, yes, just
what you mean by too much,
too much
water in your cistern, let it flow down gutters
intelligently placed to slow erosion,
leaving
first pure, mere thought bought by breathing
consistently for seventy five years, attended to
by books that my grandma read as a child,

and my grandchildren read this summer.

Presently passing on the purpose of first and last.

Since time is taken universally,
to be measured in portions to each
thing a time and seasons, within that time,

to use the will to live, and let seem living
all - what, curiously wrought musings,
wordless, falling for the lure, seems living
moving itself aright, as often wines may do,
inviting titles do to musers unbemused,
but no child knows the meaning of things
such as admonitions not to look upon
the wine red, swirling beauty, see
books judged by covers oft stink of
deceitful meats, imagine the ruler's
condescension, partake in silence,

answering freely all who question why,
breathe-ing and eating,
I am but a temporary mover of matter,
from one state to another, as I pass along
this trail that speaks of long disuse,
where it leads, at this junction,
I lack a will to lie and say I know, but

I know, I am willing to believe, where
I would be if I turned around, here

from there, relatively no time at all,
nonsensed wish to be known,
for having been a survivor,
sensed as something natural, self

set up to become this old, enough
to know, no greater need than peace
with purpose, a faith that your duty

is to learn and make do-good things
from things not being used at all.

We on Earth, honestly,
we have no where to go and be,
we do know what must be done,
we leave undone all we have no

will, or means, no way, to do right,
no way to do at all, wrong or right,

yet, with a will used to prove, right
my will, a will used to wait, to see

after many days, few change life's initial
gravitational course.

Daily counting worth for measure,
is one more enough, for pleasure,

or must we, plural I, seem reassured
we know too much to believe you're right.

Working overtime, thinking you are worth less,
than the wages paid a worker on duty as chief
satisfied mind, absent all care and concern,

for fretfull regulated safety well behind that wall.

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

In life stories form
all informed knowing, be it
beautiful adversity universally
re-co-known
acknowledged with smiles, and
nods, sense of yes, I know, I think,

I see you think, so, I know, I did
finish writing something meaningful;

or, be it in every way some other way.

I think you may imagine you agree.

In conscience used, we take science,
knowledge of beauty, chaotic clouds,
bending rays of sunshine, evening
the heave offering, leaving smooth
cool of the day
white sugar desert dunes, to an ant or bee.

{KJB, viable Bible archetype, declares phonetic
remenants of Eber's unconfused use of letters,
towb rah translate as good and evil, but better see
טוֹברַע good and bad, useful and useless to the point
of wasting effort, in a take it easy world, where we
know enough, drink, remember when it was,
plenty of water, no real enemies yet, and only
one barrier, over which those beautiful wild
seeds have been carried, by ravens, and doves
and rodents who surface only in the night.

Let's recall an old told tale, how folks
skinned in many colors we continue to be coated with,
all lost the knowledge that lying was used, to steal,
during lives times when we are parts in wholes,
until all things continuing, combine your will
to wonder what I imagined I am continuing,

with my own will to wander on, meandering
through the substance of hope, by my own

faith, fi, upright, balanced valence in chemical
terms, fit to fight for your right to think wrong,
confident my pride has been filed to a point,
not my right to be wrong, or do wrong, or lie.
To give good reason for cost of learning.
The faith that gives reason its point.

To tell the truth, sheriffs were good guys,
when I was a kid, a wild little goat, indeed,

I have seen myself in seven grandchildren
and their little heathen friends, so I know,

we get more like ourselves, my mother in law said.

And now, I keep the peace, wu wei easy knowing
towb ra' beautiful efforting life demands in return,

for freely eating from all the trees in the garden, thank you.

Staves and rings to make a keg,
pots full o'****, and patience aplenty,
we ain't makin' whiskey, we preparin'
black powder, the old boom behind now,

previous to this Nitro Oxy reaction
as we breathe and think Dynamite,
and steel, and germs and Jesus,
as depicted after Gutenberg
and Aldus Manutius, and
Kabir, first among sages
found by Brave AI,
at my request…
"Hermit, that yogi is my guru
who can untie this song.
A tree stands without root,
without flowers bears fruit,
praises sung without tongue,
the true teacher reveals.

Seek the bird’s, the fish’s path.
Kabir says, both are hard.
The being beyond boundaries
and beyond beyond."

And again I quote Saul Bellows,
"there is just too much to think about."

So we explode.
Imagining finishing,
still, pile all we ever learn,
all our hows and all our whys, and still

stand here staring off in space,
with no idea how long it takes
to make the sense we needed,

ever so long ago, almost a thousand years,
almost so long ago that nobody really knows,
so the clowns are sent in, as children gain ad-
vantage, as happens, on winning sides of wars,

and as that has happened, we, those children,
we are old and used up sorts of men made thus,

precept upon precept, how do we live together,
how can I learn to wish to give away my surplus,

and live within my means, by chance, no plan,
justice, made believable, that it does play fair,

the game of growing old while holding haps,
pursued while first discerned, as good to know,

it is the right of all mankind to pursue happiness,
and break it down
for storage and future reconstruction.