Wild ideas called seminal,
put forth the first root
prior to the first shoot,

first the blade, then the ear,
then the full corn in the ear,
then the harvest, gathering

fuel for the fire in the belly,
fitting frame and form to task,

as each part player repeats,
the quotidian procession
offering songs sung inside

faith formed bubbles of might,
may haps made per haps good
and easy, easing frets and fears,

recollecting known knowns,
regarding time above ground,
reminding each subroutine

to come, play the role, smile,
fix good will, first form genius
performing projection

shining on time, finding it
comforting to know how long
a time has been in process

of making up our will to try,
once more, our ingratiating
offering, whispering

fire, fire of life, fire in me a will
to find a way of worth to make
seem natural, spiritual, not flesh

the body and the mind,
the body and the will,
the body and the need, the want

the pulling hunger, the generator
calling for sustenance…

if time is life… and comfort
has been achieved, received…

life after nobility, life after expertise,

proven with the worth attested to…

urged whimsically, can we not
make a moment's peace pass

uncontested, indeed, we can and may.

Have a fine day. Or so they say,
wishing without realizing how,
the will to give an encouraging word

weighs lightly on a satisfied mind,
at the end of … ever, again.

Two questions, lost to television
"What is matter?
Never mind.
What is mind?
It does not matter."

Yet, a lifetime later, in nous sense,
minding one's own business, thinking

whose idea is this, who's testing time
for worth, weight of wisdom, left to me,

for my attention paid,
for my notice taken, blank stare, musing
using preserved utterances between we two,

me, and my own will, me and my monkey
discerning historical value systems arranged

to leave room for fruitless investigation,
to make space for ruling levels and grades,
high over low, will to make, will to use,
will to take and use to make more ease,

more peace of mind in matters of time,

offered in a poetic sense, mere mindful
ness, in nous sensed, gentle, familiar order,

at our established limit, at the end of life,
assuming time continues, only life's
artificial interesting lures, know
now urgency, generating knowledge
needing, it must seem, at the moment,
to be pre-served, as known known reminders,
the story of us, we, the people alive
letting this mind be in us, in word
and deed, in truth, we think
we may use any knowing
reproved while taking life as easy as

any royal courtier in empirical courts,

vested interestingly, if one wishes to know
what is invested in me, one wishes to know
why am I the curious kind, sorted out
to ever learn and never settle

to the bottom,
line, final word, capital idea,

bring up a child, in the way, whither
no way is commonly the only way,

but we have dug a channel, a course
to become the of course, in all conversing,

of course, along the way through life
informed as one called to learn to tell true

what was said in counsel, with the wise,
of course, those most blessed with nothing
missing or broken, comforted mindfully,

aware where gravity is enforced, we hold
the fullness of time as space in mind.
------------------------------
Informing us as knowers using
assisting intelligence's recollections…
answers in mindform, offered as news
ex parte gratis, for your information,
finding oneself in the same form as wind
metaphorically, in the same mind
curious as to what we think we know:

[The term capital]
made its first appearance
in medieval Latin
as an adjective capitalis (from caput, head)
modifying the word pars, (part and parcel)
to designate the principal sum
of a money loan.
The principal part
of a loan was contrasted
with the "usury"—later called interest—
the payment made
to the lender
in addition
to the return
of the sum lent.
This usage, unknown
to classical Latin,
had become common
by the thirteenth century and possibly
had begun as early as 1100 A.D.,
in the first chartered towns
of Europe.
--- according to knowledge accessible
by any empowered to read these thoughts---

[Frank A. Fetter,
"Reformulation
      of the Concepts
            of Capital and Income
                  in Economics and Accounting," 1937]

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=capital>

In sequence, next
we spend our rest urged on, pressed

pushing aggregational will to empower
precious personal will to accept

hold tight, the right to think, this is a good day,
where the course widens to meet the ocean,
and eventually evaporate.


Taking your time,
using your attendance, now

to extend my hope
to knowing certain ways
to inform good counselors

called, trusted advisors, seers
granted high perch to see from

to draw ever into now, to focus

our mind's eye at the point aimed
from ever's edge at the first cause

the why we are, part of every thing,
in truth, the state we find ourselves

being makers of… let this mind seem

our common sensory sorting system,

cost for not knowing, profit for knowing,

guiding guardian self preserving gnosis.

Pleading for a purchased god
Romanticized for its ancien régime
Celiac, and yet I licked the wheat paste
Of the letter I was was trimmed A4

In all that time spent by the basin
(and its traffic-trimming wetlands)
I only rode my bike to the depot
To color code my calendar

When capital kept its calls collect,
When the gravy train kept me idle
Each chamber would be emptied
Fruitlessly: punch drunk with praise

(Indulge a little)

Each from four through five: orchestrated
The plains always claim the sixth
(Respecting the tradition of western folk)
Only three will ever threaten treatment

Wrapped up
In blanket love
Breathing out the past
And only looking forwards
Opening windows
To let in the spring
Cutting my bangs
So the world can see my face
I'm a whole new girl
I can smile now
There's an anchor now
I'm safe and sound

I heard a plaintive heave before the cleaving of the air,

then of the flesh – a forceful splitting of a young citrus,
then of the splintering – a crunch that froze the scorch of that afternoon.

Finito! the sound of the fragile spine breaking into hundreds... or is it thousands? of pieces.

And the debris, of the marrow
and the dangling arteries –
of chunks of the hypothalamus,
a part of the left hemisphere –

the tangential stains of blood on modern Golgotha – a cemented clearing deep within the woods
parched and dried by the anger of that afternoon -

which resembles a festive night:
festooned with firecrackers,
with showers of embers and
fountains of fire,
glow sticks of horror,

And the lower part, the detachment:
loose and limp
placid and peaceful.

A fresh sculpture of soft clay in red  
plaid polo and punturong –
both saved by the stain of gore,

but not with the stain of nature

on the flipside
the habiliments are covered in dust – modern dust
brought by cement and its slow deterioration

of how friction demolishes it era by era
tick by tock of the giant slothful clock -

and as this same cement
seeps all the fireworks

vegetation thrives –
and the fruit of man, and law, and
capital teeth and eye dangles
through thick sinewy vines.

The land devour the sculpture carved by a single
stroke.

And then another heave is heard
then the cleaving of the air,
the almost splitting of the neck meat,
the forceful pulling of a penchant edge
then the cleaving of the air
the splitting of a young tangerine,
then the splintering of a spine,
the spray of sainthood in scarlet,
then the limping,
the rolling, the creation of a mask.

It was a masterpiece of music,
visual aesthetics and
natural arts.

As the mark of each face
was left in the humid winds
of that
afternoon.

It almost feels like summer,
breeze at the dusk, killing mosquitoes.
It feels like
Taking a stroll on National Mall,
On a summer night in front of Lincoln Memorial.
Playing Frisbee riding bike
On the meadow in front of the Capitol.

My summer in the capital
With you, him and her and them and myself alone

It feels like the humidity in the swamp, with jazz playing in the background
It smells like crab cake and french toast, out from the diners I frequent
It looks like the summer sky, cloudless, your eyes

The meadow the ducks, summer dress and birkenstock.
Brunch, breeze and bike, followed by more bike rides along the riverfront.

Sitting on the marble stairs of the Supreme Court
Dipping toes in Reflection Pool

Summer in D.C. oh how I much do I miss you and adore
Summer is a state of mind and so does love
But you never fail to give me the feelings of those above.xxoo