you see me imagining you
believing a lie I told,
a lie about knowing good and evil
and that I can imagine
William Blake's little
lamb was once me,
I am yet, not a jot or tittle of child
fool-ibility, I am a thought you caught in your
default mode me-andering mode, a modality oft
left idle. A rest for weary idle words bouncing
in browns from amber to ochre, dry
light leaking from piles
of idle thought meandering thoughts piling up behind
take, rewind and replay, keep the takes ignor
Margaret Atwood knows how to build worlds of words.
I blow bubbles.
kiss em a will in a whisp
haps a single
becomes this one we hide in, not from evil, for goodness
sakes, we be
as any ancient sapient's sacred secret
knowledge, hidden, useless.
-ah, no. right use of peace is the rest, after the heroes
and wizards and witches and priests and humble teachers,
after the recognition of old ideas, tics
the talking point and we, once more, see our selves,
we see ourselves as the passengers on the autopiloted
biosphere, terraforming itself for us, since
the first idea you knew was from beyond you,
began to bubble in your soul...
-- rest my soul in the bosum of abraham, whoa ain't woe,
but no is no. be wise or wish you was.
An old man's wisdom hides here in stasis.
Horded as weal and woe,
and debts owed to a foe
voice stages a starting boom, in the empty room,
our exspansive space
where peace is made in wisdom used for knowing,
wisdom, a place, a quest
launched, aimless yet
we be, and we do not comprehend gripping being life
for any preconceived gnotion
I asked for the living water, I was the receptor, the door
to within me,
where the kingdom of marybabydaddy lay.
wait. "within you", ever'body say Jesus said... some heavyshit,
maiden formed milksop grown to full warrior maturity,
(laid, by god, can you imagine that feeling? Wow, right?}
basic a gift so basic a power to employ at will
This medium, this horde of lines we have to hold as truths or dares, shall be the wind where the answers form de novo... old is not a mortal reality, comically speaking... old thoughts are new next time, I think.