this verbal wishing well, appreciated,
a nut of good intentions but drives me
deeper into de-spare-ing  downing detentions,
for it is only the article's genuine genius,
that elevates the human spiritus, to godlike status

no ditty this, but a wail, shriek, for
human touch is gift so greatest,
that any day passing without
either, neither but both, 'tis one
truly wasted,
a deduction on our
calculus of inited^ human intuitions,
a failure of our greatest inventions

a subtraction of our
gainful living, a purposed ecstasy
our one and only inexact
measure of measurement
that defies pedantic notions of
things of weight or volume,
but extends our own existence

sans
the armies of embrace,
the electric elected syncing,
of the shocking sharing of
closing the borders of divided spaces,
a soft contusion, a realized illusion

a de minimus of our days,
a lessening of our lessons,
a loss of earning livingness,
a nail in our coffined basket,


and here to cease without surcease,
the elemental incalculable numbered
members of our total human races,
that so tragic in  a twenty four expiry,
that the bonding of affection goes
unexpressed...

offer you my armory of arms,
cleanse us both with showered kisses,
inform you thus of our emboldened connection,
voiding these lowlife separators of lineage divisors,
what matter color, gender, chosen god nomenclature,
any of this nonsensical human inventions for distancing
divested human beings from each other


tho eyes closed, and all our senses flaring,
when we confirm what we were born knowing,
there is nothing greater than the human touch


PostScript

my first and best poem of the day,
how it came to me goes unbeknownst,
but will practice what is preached
with any and all willing encountered souls,
and perhaps, come-end of day, will write,
once more, one more, re heaven on earth

7:02am
Tue Sep Thirty
Two Thousand and Twenty Five.                                                       nml

not good enough to be in your band
or join your basketball team
but good enough
to spectate or be your water boy
not good enough
to pass your classes academically
but good enough to receive a passing grade
for participation that helped me graduate
so I’d be out of your hair
not good enough
to break bread with you at the lunch table
because our parents made different salaries
but good enough
to be put down when you needed a laugh
or to feel better about yourself
not good enough
to answer back when I needed your help
but good enough
to be a nostalgic crutch when you need someone
to lean on
I’ve only been good enough
to stand in front of your machines,
to fill out your paperwork,
to sweep your floors
but not good enough
to advance at this job or in this society
and now I’ve found myself conquering the world
despite your predictions, despite your conjectures
despite your criticism, despite your disparaging remarks.
I have made myself who I am today based on the indifference
towards your humiliation, your rejections, your rebukes
so, if you see me on the streets and I don’t say “hi”
it just means you weren’t worthy of acknowledging
and if I give you the sharp eye and spit in the trash can
it only means I’ve forgotten about you completely
and that is good enough for me.

you awake, and your blood
it’s changed, wrong color,

which color matters not, just,
it isn’t what’s supposed to be,

the wound that wasn’t there yesterday,
won’t/isn't being healed, somethings wrong

you don’t need to admit the admission,
no supposition, the truth, it will out you

wearing the weariness in/on your eyes,
your forehead and anywhere it matters

even strangers double take, cross over the
street to avoid visiting your visage

sometimes it can’t be helped, enormity
seems insufficient to redress overwhelming

gonna give up this wretched writing gig,
recording date & time futile & unimportant

the everything everywhere every day is
well past  the Nevery, but specificity is not

yeah gonna take a breather, a whole season,
put aside the reasons, no more deep cuts

when the portico spaces shout, sorry ,closed,
in spades, but you don’t feel it or care

go off and cater to yourself, knowing in
advance, that work won’t advance you past

the point of return, who, you’re too wounded,
no forward, the past is clout clouded, rough

the word some is a totality, what you got,
is something else, & need another something

taking a break from fools and friends, at now,
ain't any difference, gonna lie down, yeah,

lie down or lie up
because


sometimes it helps

the title comes as easy as water from the tap,
the poem’s body, somehow lost in the prep,
comeback a day later, looking for total recall,
and what my mind meant, intended, by a multi-coloration

and
the notion of humility as my overarching,
modus operandi, adding a filter, that diffracts
pure light into a spectrum of primary

primaries-

building blocks of our most basic
essences; seeing the spectrum not as pieces
but as a whole body blended, a mix, oils mixed into a purified glow and see humans
in this light and only in this light
and
remaking a multi into a singularity
and
this will be my only filter for assessing
the future as far ahead as my vision will
allow

12/18/24

I choose fingers,
among the array
of many wonderful
parts on offer,

the other sensory emissaries protest,
but the multi-fluency of fingers,
fluent in all Romance languages,
nay, in every dialect, tongue,
tippling the balance in their favor

for the fingers are wonderful conversationlists, trumping the
cooing coyness of sweet wordy
verbs, fingers defy nouns, pronouns

and are fingers the finest conjunction
that was ever conjured ot conjuncted?

the ears hear poorly when upom it
a long  slim finger casually traces outlines
slow~sensually and the eyes shut tightly,
reflexively, the tongue froze to the
mouth roof, muted into inaction

even the the sense of smell lies powerless
should we block the nostrils with but
*******, and breathe mouth mightily

we do not diminish the orchestration’s
totality, the blending of sound ‘n sensation,
but the blind and deaf all must bow before the power of fingers speaking to
every part of the bodies totality