this is what comes next,
we have learned
to wait for
The world, the environs of me i see,
other than I imagined in the illusory phaze
right no holy terror here, we past that.
title-mebbe Ignorance is a choice, it is vain,
the effing efforting to ig nobel so high a wave as mine.
Rock and roll poets with scientific magi making tools
that obey our virtually
whim. Imagine that. We did. What now?
or ance, re ignorance
a wee twist that tugs us back to unem,
we chuckle. You know, if you have not thought
how happy after right now,
might work if it were your might that makes it work,
then. This is that. In a poem. A poem puddle the flow flowed to.
No joke, life has become very jello-ish in its real-feel here, for a while.