Just scribbling in the bible book
taking a gander
having a look at
what Jesus said,
but
there's a lot of other things going on with
Mathew,
Mark and especially Jonah who's
slightly older.
The unexpurgated edition tells
the real tale,
It's a bit Medusa to say the least.
But this is not about religion,
that's not my pigeon as the hawk would say,
that's if hawks could talk.
it's more of a stroll through the undergrowth
where the lichen grows or
dipping my feet in the water and wiggling
my toes,
Realisation.
nothing is real
people craft miracles from icicles
and how hot is that?
we talk in rivers of riddles
we walk on flesh made of stone
call it a poem
call it galvanised steel
but
nothing is real.
Infinity stretches out like a worm
and
how do you compete with it
or last as long as it.
Repro'
the double and triple,
quadruplicated replicas
in camera
locked in a screen,
the ripple that runs through
your dream
where nothing is real but you
know it's not true,
are you the potency of
the reprobate?
Summer and the winds are fair
to the seafaring man
who used to be there
but who
now lives in the mission.
All things end in the end which is
as unreal as it gets.
