What is strange, after all
was said,
and done,
the story seemed
forgotten
and
no one idea remained alone, as an if,
a
possibility,
never even imagined, one,
which alone made
each
hap or happenible, imaginable as an aspect of reality
appear to
happen, in your reality,
now,
and this
happened to be, one possibility,
wit' me
and you In it. it
seems
we can't
discern a granular differing christalization,
for, we know, it
looks like one of us loosed the grip on knowing,
realizability, actual-al-ity, virtually,
for sure,
at eye level.
See
qubic zirconium looks like diamond,
to naked eyes,
in certain light;
and magic seems scientif, with at least
six spin opt-in on the
referendum
passed for truth to exist in California…
Prop. 13 covered us, property tax wise,
so this reality looks
as if it worked,
see,
the effort to not die, remember?
Life goes on.
This is all we got to make the best of.
Your guess, as good as mine, I bet,
it's worth breathing
again;
but don't **** me, if I'm wrong,
joke,
no worry.
I never was,
under
those circumstances, you are crazy.
Not me. Breathe.
Nov 13, 2019
Nov 13, 2019 at 10:58 PM UTC
What is strange, after all
was said,
and done,
the story seemed
forgotten
and
no one idea remained alone, as an if,
a
possibility,
never even imagined, one,
which alone made
each
hap or happenible, imaginable as an aspect of reality
appear to
happen, in your reality,
now,
and this
happened to be, one possibility,
wit' me
and you In it. it
seems
we can't
discern a granular differing christalization,
for, we know, it
looks like one of us loosed the grip on knowing,
realizability, actual-al-ity, virtually,
for sure,
at eye level.
See
qubic zirconium looks like diamond,
to naked eyes,
in certain light;
and magic seems scientif, with at least
six spin opt-in on the
referendum
passed for truth to exist in California…
Prop. 13 covered us, property tax wise,
so this reality looks
as if it worked,
see,
the effort to not die, remember?
Life goes on.
This is all we got to make the best of.
Your guess, as good as mine, I bet,
it's worth breathing
again;
but don't **** me, if I'm wrong,
joke,
no worry.
I never was,
under
those circumstances, you are crazy.
Not me. Breathe.
It was scheduled for a Tuesday in August, 1970
Request permission to use this poem