To the reader, dear child,
on the other side, passing in a gravity solution
that makes all things work
together

as did Hiroshima, dare we say, make for a far
better day today
than say,

that one day,
what does it say
of you and me?
We were no part in that day,
but a bit of us was, I dare say,
blown heavenward that very day,

for dust and ash are as one thing,
at the level of motes in my eye, squinting,
see, through the lashes, form a jeweler focus

to mark the slightest wrinkle,
to be tugged taut right now.

Solidity in this realm beyond the frontside
of the window we peer through, share through,
but see through darkly, projecting our known
on your window into the unknowable truth.

Bah. How can one imagine unknowable truth?
How is why's younger sibling, in the novel
experience peers judge. Judging angels,
best done in the rawest form available,

-- surprise, not boo, no start-el entheosis,

unless the truth is somewhat sorted and some not.

Chaos and death are bad guys one Plancksec,
joyous uplifters into other realms, the next.

Times pass, as page one testates to page five oh three.
And it came to pass.
We have aged, aggressively in some parts of what we are.
The sounds we say are same as always, shuffling
into pidgins we generate in familiar settings,
common sense of hearing and tongue and eye and face
and hands and minds that make three points
work to
gather space to think, time to reason, first meet season.
Safe inside three points we agree upon


Never was before, no dreamin', nada, zilch, we was, is all.

We was, then we was now, re-
memberin' how
we was a one thing-kind, an I
alone among many nameable things,
all working together to build a channel
for the flow,

to you, the reader in the top line today.

Then was this dream o'mine t'you begivin'

see and say you saw signs of meaning as true'no'lie
words and words
alone,
no brighter than the sun light
no darker than the night shade
words
on line
in lines long and lines short
down the page a goingoingoin' on'n'on

to now, right now. this'n'when you wake up
and read us at a point in life's book where
we be the answer
to the most recent,
most often missed point in life.
Why it works.
Start. Finish. Stop. Oops. Re- ah, ha,  a mythtery
stuck tongue stutter stop, say shibboleth,
hmm, can you now?
Say se, see me open, wook.

Velly intwesting tings tongues.
Some say one thing, some say the other.
After all, how influential can an immaterial thing be?
Personally.
To you, I mean
nothing, right? But to me, I am all I cannot live without.