a red rose in a field
red as a freshly painted barn
I see it, alone in that cornfield
like a lighthouse, standing, by the crashing sea.
the bees buzz around its crown
and the butterflies dance by the stalk
Oh what a sublime scene!
as simple as settling dust.

It grows here on its own
stretching its own root, finding its own waters
not like the vines that twist around the trees
but instead, it is almost its own sun
and almost its own earth
and as unbound as the river
flowing, past its own banks.

what a beautiful flower
what a beautiful dusk
a red rose
and a field of corn.

A sermon,
of a sort, one
of a kind classified

prosopopoeia literally
a form or figure of speech,
answering a proposed query,

who what when where or why.

Centering our attention on why,
I shall endeavor, as I have heard
sermocinators originally served

those lacking book learning

with oral interpretation
on duty and debt, et cetera.
Sermocinations.
So, to use the time alloted
to retie the tie binding duty
and honor to the story told

in generally Christmas and Easter,
congregations of true traditionalists.

Our duty,
after tariffs on attention paid
football and all ball based
forms fertilized and fed
with yeastyeatsweets
at local circuses,
- stuck in costume
- take the collar off
- symbolically we do
- all we have
- to do
- nada mas, the traditions
- the cultural square laws
- stacking steep or straight
cotton candy pink

and now, local news,
wherever you may think
we use magic wherewith we
- impose Jello time, allowing
- our posed media shared mind
- state works with thinking letting
- letters form words from thoughts,

Thunk,
enscribe truths heard in wordform
seen in letters long since become
common,
to any able ever
to think,
pen and ink,
at the rate of cursive text to
press to
whom, objective subject re
submission, to a public mind re
whom do we turn, verily we kind
we category of mankind, unsorted
remnemonic palaces of liturgical awe
into heform sheform weform, mixed us,
untried spirits, most of us never thunk once
we the receivers warming the pews, expecting

or saying we do. Amen.
Sermon sayers saying same preplanned response.

Riddle me a riddle, Zeke,
whose holy stories hide
behind discipline, price paid, most honed
duty engrained since first communion, accepted
as common sense since first witnessed
on TV,
by the now grandfathering endurers
survivors of the mind wars, religious wars,
and mindshare wars after all attention was

valued on scales we stagger to think
we tip over backwards looking up to think

how can I look through the JWST.
How can any not attempt
to grasp the expanse
crossed since Alamogordo,
epimethean destiny makes religamentation work.
Did we ever wonder if saying amen means anything?
Indeed, mental enmonic   -non sense there's no such
Mnemonic, e-lessly de
memory neuronal response tool re
taught in rhetoric courses all bishops take,
courses,
of course, all who feel such duty calling, take
the same courses through human events as we

listen, as the winds list,
as we lean into the rhetorical
oracle of certainty central
inside job creative theory,
no outside sapience needed
to shape us,
as a we
form
touch
the ruling point, mean middle
to existing
on Earth, as words alone,
after all's been said.
Dendritic silk
Told known done
by confessing having will
to believe,
-- thickened time is pudding's proof

reality and time and all those other clusters
of weform organized societies, where children learned,

by royal decree, all children need be Starlinked to vote,

say what? Say what you think
in plain text translatable
cognatively allowing globalized Macaroni poetic license,

you know what I mean,
but in other words,
we agree, base
mind we form,
we
reading for the fun of it,
to get the feel of words as common as get
gotten and forgotten tenthousand times today,

there is a river, many messengers attest, a flow,
the  mind form imaginable in holy tellings of knowledge

science true call using knowledge with science,
consci used as psi or psy or gno or know is used,

to think, just
stop/think

Ai, you know, I would, as wills being imaginably
done, you know, I would, if I were you, enjoy

the time it takes

to read with all new words, to think your self
just ified, made up in a mind, inside
at least infested imaginably
with many verbs, set
to respond

to sponsors calling all who see
to see the mark
of me,
my weform, my teamform, my loyalty defining we form,

from which,
howling poets ever were out cast,

alas, but the Greeks had a word
for everything, the logos set of all Logos Sets,

tinker toys
erector sets
electric trains, and guns
these were toys of rich little boys

in America, as seen on TV in Tijuana

Waves, gentle, thinking price to know, ra'
as a thought, high e to compute a worth, towb
beautiful

tapestries, tries, thinking
in cursive tip preserving,

delicate touch tip to lip,

Sermonic deontological slip

up yours, the local team roars
all laughing like we were involved
no delay, west wall sunny day Febru=
februarius mensis "month of purification,"

so, as sermons granted whole days to happen
as such must agree who followed today, as hapt

to seem strange, by design
a quest toward the very answer we expect.


--- mindhat pause
Literally letting words mean all they may
in actual Wikipedian translations thinkable
across the spectrum, we form to make our

point, why are we involving you, or me, for
that which matters does not matter much for me.

Kinda wanna think it madjathank at a point thunk.

Power On Self Test

Invest the rest of one day in a story,
to discern the point to this course through

known, by word of mouth, mostly, through
time barely rememorable, mostly among
Latch key syndrome urban and rural

recollectable signs we shoulda seen,
but life, particularly self fulfilling bets
put in the time to see the first Jubilee,

and for many, learning once, in truth,

trade in a band of brothers mythic honor form,
a we of honed most blades in service of science,
slicing ever more gently the material reality, as we
scratch the beards on old men faces
we wear to bed at night, and find on other
peacemakers, earth as it must be where peace
abides, in truth, not entertained unawares, peace
made thinkably possible if pride were devalued.

Perfectly said, one thought, I heard go ding.
We are on the same page here, there is one thing

past understanding,

kindness rules evolution, we hate to differ,
we love to conjoin realities we each have endured

this is us, once more, forming a big parade,
or a strand of the stuff we see weaving galaxies

at scales only minds unbound by letters relax
loose
bowels of courage gut felt punched, too often,
gnoshit, Forrest Gump hit a nerve.

Whose is the audience, since all the world's
our stage, all active words advance

on step up, two steps back, onstep up, and so on…

Considering hostility
    I feel violent.
Considering wonder
    I am awed.

I heard a French widow
say that there is
someone in each of us
    who loves
and someone in each of us
    who kills.

Take heed, the earth is unforgiving
and can be as potent, subtle,
as poison.
Each gift it has given, rejoice,
for it is unafraid
to take back what it rightfully owns.
Man may say that it controls
the Earth, its resources–
torrents–monumental, crashing–
beg to differ.
We offer our condolences
to an already deafened sky.
Promises to “do better next time.”
Our earth, the stern father
that it is, does not waver.
Instead, slick, clean window panes are beaten
by a downpour, and
asphalt with the thirst of its cracks
quenched are all that we receive.
Field upon field with more moisture
than it can bear.
Who were we not to revere this land,
we who apologize as beauty betrays.

You can describe
The awe inducing beauty
Of a sun kissed morn
Or of the towering, starry night sky
And never realize it's value

We assembled a modest telescope,
To find what sights there were  to see.
I stared, transfixed, at the moon and stars,
In the driveway with all of my family.

I know exactly where I stood,
The moment I would find,
The infinite nature of time and space,
And how it all unwinds.

I asked about the size of the moon,
The distance of its arcing track.
I asked about the space beyond,
The nothing in the black.

I asked my family how big it is.
I asked if anyone knows,
The moon, the stars, and all of it.
I asked how far it goes.

“My son, our curious little one…”,
My parents said to me,
“It has no end”, “It just keeps going”,
“Outward, eternally”.

I stared up into a southern sky,
Ominous, dark as the sea.
And I swear, at that moment,
Looking up,
Something departed from me.

            It flew into the dark of space,
And hasn’t slowed in all this time,
       As far and as fast as information can.
                        The speed of light, I hear…
Which is not so much a speed…
          Hitched, perhaps, to the Voyager probe…
   By these new thoughts inside of my head.
                             But I digress.

This thing  began a journey that,
Must bring it face to face,
With everything that ever was,
Every corner of time and space.
Everything that is yet to come,
Everything that has ever been.
Repeating every history,
It’s trek would never end.

That thought has always stayed with me.
It anchors me, somehow.
A line cast from a sailing ship,
Where I stand upon the bow.
In the oblivion of the infinite,
It grounds me to the “now”.

Out walkin in the moon light, out away from the fire light.
Feelin kinda bored with life, wonder if there's more to life.
Thinkin if the time was right, how to play my cards just right.
It was a starry night, you should have seen the stars that night.
It was marvelous, as I stood there starved of breath.
It was hard to catch, but otherwise it was marvelous.

This clade of “tree”
if  you can believe that
! That this is   what   the
...      silversword alliance technically are.
It's closely related              tarweed...


The first **** wasn’t lonely for long and had
multiple terrains to colonize.
& tall tales take solidified liquid form
from the something
making water like fire
or air we can’t see floating like ice.
Pushed in a away a tsunami
seem small as they cross over the ocean.

Only they roar
louder then anything heard, but a drip
silenced lost lost
to deaf ears
empty troughs of the dunes  
soft sand triumphing over the oceans.


The four subclades within the crossing times
sowed their alliance,
silversword are the tall tales
detail of long ago seemingly insignificant kept
life form, form life , forms
forms life

we know because it’s indistinguishable from the rest.  

probabilities estimates Vertical
no horizontal or dashed lines.
Bound by the ' it was', see.
we are to the way we
were. Read the possible
probability of a tale, A tale  

of a tall tale. Told.
Origination, will, times. They tell,
seconds per island
complex (from left-to-right:
Kaua‘i, O‘ahu, Maui Nui, Hawai‘i).

Living on with a smile,
Transmuting in unknowing,
Swimsuit ready for more suffering,
What a chance! What a circus!
At an end, I say thanks.

I, who have blinked,
And glad to have felt
bed sheets and petals and melancholy moods,
And my god! The blossom and the sadness of falling,
Wretched cold,
Pain of poverty
And power too.
What a life! What a moment!
To it all, I say thank you.

And birds, many times my soul knew you,
And dirt, on my hands grounding my mind,
Dear trees, in my solitude you were always so kind,
What a world! What a time!
I'd live again, rewind.