Stop all efforting to know, and think
knowing is going on well known, without me.
No childhood duty to cultured honor, do I feel.
No grain of sand among all the stars beyond us,
in the middle of any given night in the desert, we
see, am I nor any other, listening, waiting, thinking
as the we involved in using time to think with, once,
then again, aware more now than ever before, we
are not the first to formulate means for making peace
in time of constant readiness to agressively defend,
the story of us, our nation and vocabulary of knowing,
all the words in all the books, at a touch, see this
means that, gnative tongue tying truths to us,
cognative clear translation is ours, in other words,
we who comprehend the shibboleth as ours to say
right, ya'll say ain't we say do not attempt am not I
in a kind sibalence hush
of meaning seeking mode, hiding
wills to wonder curiously curia classified
rules allowing religious proof of science lying,
while earnest diligence duly done, indeed
instantly acknowledging holy truth is plausible,
as awfully awesome instances of answered aha
per haps, haps may tie it all to me through you,
ready steady friend in times
of deepest lonely me
self deluding independent thought
dominion, in old age, seven decades and above, we
become the prayers of saints, as we chose
to define refined sophia recipes,
in unsophisticated self taught grammars,
using only matter we have at hand, in truth, mere
words, liberally offered and left to show, the way
we made up this mind, this formal structural me
hold, metaphorical jug of ra' towb experience, I
- while sorting idle words from active verbs
imagine, any willing to read a line, ready
to make another think it through, to this end
that we may be in one mind, or of one mind,
preposed to say we agree with exceptionalists,
as by virtue of becoming a breathing word user,
each becomes a knower of how peace is made,
when none has been, in the mind of a long generation,
Prince of Peace, perceive the irony, toes rusting
stuck in the mud we expected… as we see on TV,
the murderous wille zur erste, none recall who won…
now that the long sought, even desperately prayed for,
Northwest Passage by Sea is open, year-round,
and now no fish contain no plastic, tic, tic, tic
and now the shallow seas once teeming with creation,
cover Florida, up to Lake Okefanchokee with detritus.
Titles are tricky to keep totally reasonably tied to why I write.
