surfeit- stuck on the clipboard,
shadow of muse long
shadier than many
counterfeit
What good did I lose,
when I lost a day,
when I lost

yesterday,

man, the best hold
on the whole idea,
we ever had, duty
we share in
the world that we occupy, we inhabit,
so whatever good we do gets done,
one day at a time,
in this wilderness,
aspirational inspiration
is as fleeting as a thought never written,

but, if you caught the fleeting thing,
and wrote in the most flowing
effluently efficacious way,

beautiful zone shone known knowns

and lost it to a literal glitch,
an old forgotten buffer flush

lost in transfer from chaos, through

some kind of standard query language
patented Microsoft gadget,

for which, now,
I must wish a fix, a certain deja vuish
recovery that must be
in here,
some place I must seek

to find, or, leave it go,
one day,
what the hell,
the nonsense
of that as a question
or an expletive
at a surprise,
a wrinkle
a surfeit patience fabrication, too
compleatly
much idle time, too little aim

at being seen
at the scene

of the last confident lay down,

almost all I'll go rythms that we hear,
after sufficient trust exposure
surprise is never the plan,

value for value
idle words
for idle time.

A matched wisdom,
seeing the worth
of the effort
to be doing over,
ever put

right where
the surfeit nothing was…

put in place holding peace pose


So, now, then
sad, sorta,
not bad,
or mad.

At peace, permanence

advantage, eternally true
when you know you
knew backups exist,

or believed you knew…

tov ra, towb ra' gnosis,
da'ath chabad advantage

wisdom, is the kingdom
of truth, which, it is writ,

the God Jesus worships,
the spirit of truth, in truth
must be taken at true value

Faire and far dhe put here.

Say that tree holds witness,

with our wits about us we do

more thinking than other doing

so… Thinking, that other day…

deemed written off, but loved,

didn't we survive yesterday, ain't

this so, so we might make peace,

enough to fill the Boötes Void.

Using poems read once imagined twice.