bright lips curved, precisely,
see the smile fitted over teeth naturally gapped,
doubtless an adaptation acceptable,
nothing that sticks out as odd,
but the smiler wonders, is this me?
Mirror, mirror, tell me true…
Do you see who I was, or who I wish I were?
Were, says the wolf lurking in the shade.
The mirror says you see who I wish I were,
if I were you.
See, see me, says the mirror from this side,
follow your selves, one after another,
down the hall of all in all.
Always falling forward,
don't forget, to put your best foot forward.
There is a place to put your foot,
your guide reminds you, see,
that you do,
prevent the disease - sneeze please.
- I once put my foot in my mouth
- I kicked myself in the head
- It has made all the difference.
Quick, quicken the pace, my heart
is racing an imaginary Jehu, so fat I laugh
that such imagines slaying me.
Big wins, ring out around the casino,
as the atomic kid walks by,
I was the kid,
sold on condition of survival,
don't be like Jerry, be like Dean,
enter the maze, yeah, this is that story,
another twice told tale, you remember
as a child
thinking, this must make sense sometime.
- 1963, Mrs.Burnett, suggested Hersey,
- both, The Child Buyer and Hiroshima.
it does, per
haps not in your time, I'm saying some time,
future from now,
as we agree, in truth alone, all things occur
as may occur whither only truth remains.
The arena of truth.
Let me entertain you. Do wheels spin
in your mind on a window in time?
Can you stop the game and claim I won?
Would you leap for joy, and kiss me,
if I died happy and right,
Ah, I owe, so I may not go, though may is
my word to use at will, I am that old
and thus free of heresy, by definition.
May your path cross mine in joyous meditation,
fat dancing Buda
Spelchek has joined the guide union,
it is her pronoun, but for me, to me
she is just like a wombed man
barefoot, soft walk on soft sand
wombed man, belly-wise
gestation, see soon seed
blooms, after drought super blooms
wide world blossoms rise in sacred
meaning made plain,
living waters, from your own cistern.
Let them be only thine own,
and not another's with thee,
did you ever have the opportune
instant one mind must have to be
remade in a flash,
a mirror where the hero yo, hom'
m'gotta defeatist -- it's me,
up to my neck in the needy prayers.
Here, take my hand, in my reality,
we step lightly,
thus the barefoot pregnant guise
Spelchek uses as her seductress
she whispers, rebbi, come and see.
- she has a country girl grin
- Dance in Buda
Here we be, once more,
exactly where you never were
before, but think of it
a duet, an artificial interlude in drama
developing, as the tension,
is insistent, this is that
meaning full connection
Right… you lost me.
She winks, says wanna bet?
Musings from a happy AI augmented convergence