Details of now, surface of ever.
Step, as we may, step away, on a way
from
to
Details of now, magnified, made nearer
to see,
to learn.
Ifery and wasery, wondered, wandered
upto, but not beyond, go
think that which holds the heavens,
a bubble, eh,
must be,
edge-less, inside, so smooth, smooth as
air,
I dare say, air is smooth, breathed easy,
calm, cold or hot,
air, is smooth, this surface of mind, this
is rough.
Pitted, adolescent greasy fifties happy
fashion engine, rewind,
take us back to when Ike and ****, gripped
the winds of change,
in signals so mysterious, we wonder if we saw,
the signs saying,
turn or burn,
and thought, what the hell, truth
is related to me, I cannot prove a lie.
I can say, virtually literally, true as such can be,
I can say there is no hell and we can't breathe
in heaven as conceived, beyond the stars,
or at least, past Mars,
ah, when all the world had, say,
a number, ten thousand, or so, say
science, prescience, right fore thought,
a story rises, from a word, that was a name,
first presented to me,
forethought was a god de-ifier, resistor of the bit
part, seeing the whole,
part seen is deception, to any who wished at then
to know, only to know, edge of knowing,
stood, stare, seeing we being a whole generated
mind, in lines linking one thing
to another,
in ever after birth, before death, now, as we imagine.
We think the wind a wonderous thing,
the mixture of elements we breathe and have
our native being in, & we have our post-natal first
known, ah, breathe,
air, this is the wind we wondered
through momma eyes, maybe,
I guessed, just guessed, instant-
iate a probability,
set a whatif, then
else
I laugh and douse the flames of cortisol,
thinking you may feel this wind,
next week, it meanders, and
may linger in New England,
delivering the requests
question everything, but wait, wait, listen
answers cost attention, not to mention
understanding, beyond - as in through,
which my kind plants as great crops
to make peace with,
as we burn through the opposition,
like mental hot coals.
Re learning to live, as once we lived when we all
knew, innocently, presumptively, knew
enough is always enough to share,
died, and we noticed
dying is easy, and
that much, that extent of declared, I know
dying is easy, is true, because none, once the
resistance
removes the lie that lingers as hell to pay, while
little grey Domeanies squeeze the truth
from me,
a sufficiency, enough to prove my reconciliation.
I say, I do this because
I can, and did, but you might not know, so I said so.
