School of the Prophets, first, we seers
were, then we saw a way we might trade
secrets for some metal to use,
in tuning our minds to next times,

to mention 3 and 4 dimensions, we claim we ken
the distance, point to point,
and in,
and out, being tween, touching was and will/shall
seeing being seen, as if there is no curtain,

it was pulled open with the ropes, fine hemp ropes,
in those days, lime was burned

Lime lit, Tiamat appears, as we walk along the wall
that is neither here nor there,
our lamps lift the shadows,
shining on the idea, locked in legends of words
worth dying to speak,
if
only once, big as you may imagine, may is your word.
You must use it well, may being
soon, you'll see. Sleep and dream of nothing,
that's good.
Not bad.

Home work, write out the answers, when you ask.

Imagine. Ping. How, now, if we knew nothing, do we
imagine. I trow not, how ever we know we may,
one line per time, creating urgency, agency, grand prix
winner takes all,
code of life, at the point of reproducing the affection,

Love Potion, Numb, numb number mumble spracht,

Mani, the mystical liar, I know from him to now,
I read how the great religions began,
like reader's digest, just, as it were, a taste for the telling
allusions spotted in the drama call explicit, ply peeling pearl
essence of ever in wonder,
thought a lot, it is a curtain readers walk through as
pearls of great price in any culture,
thinking these are
words, online, in time, nothing hidden, ever was
as we have imagined,
in these samsara plots, common since Bill Murray,
Palm Springs, Russian Doll, on and on, this myth, walk on,
each day, an opportunity to make up a meaning for something.
Make a god, and make it disappear.

The thing with money is, there is none, money is not real;
and, and, and
we all thought that once, through the wall that isn't there.