They sought to invoke the midas Chassidus
(striving for the most pious behavior possible)
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So, beyond the beanie,
we put loyalty to those who wear it,
holding rude pen from local feathers
or reedy grass,
feel the reason
writing
calls readers, you
can do this, causally becoming aitia,
the blamed doer,
amen,
I said that, so… I suffer… what, waiting
is, suffering only means, wait, or
put up with it. Art intuits recollection
of functional whole systems, means
for prying flat stone, sand stone,
ready to be made ready for use,
usual duty, any
given day, wake up, measure up,
make day mean all of it, as it occurs
around,
bubblewise,
along, riverwise path, ruts
made from graves, with their ends
kicked out.
Ghosts of all we ever wished we knew,
we all, stretch, and taste our teeth,
sniff and scratch,
listen for wind, look for shadows dancing,
seeing the moss gone dark again,
after these past few rainy days
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From inside, within-
without walls, bubblewise,
imperfectly spherical,
no sharp edges,
-in being, not out, not ex-cluded
in-cluded, clouds or clues, referentially?
You know what I mean? Clusion closure.
Boxed-in, floor and roof and walled, inclosed.
Flaw, there
in the gem, a bubble, yes, in the lens.
A blind spot…
minor blemish, or, reaching back to magic,
allowing magical thinking, distant causal agencies,
words intuned to old rythms,
the ump ump song, or the umph umph song,
pigeon strut, or the ****'s walk,
old hawk, old crow, eeee-haw! We saw
we saw, we knew,
we saw clear through, to another side of everything.
Measures demanding means of making them,
seeing things in perspective…
from any perch.
Land and look around, listen to the locals singing.
I could live here,
if I found water and recognized food, waiting,
watching other things eat,
thinking, tongue-wise former of signals, seeing
through my eyes, feels no flow, signaling
that looks good,
witness the little skink nibbling, fugaciously,
THAT is a word, as sudden as she knew, she saw,
that looks good
to eat, for food.
As suddenly as ever, ever dawned on her, of course,
root, branch, seed, harvest, birds, bees, boy oh boy,
what you never learned, all that time,
you and the
{Idea of all we see, and may call, as I call this,
this it is. My highest intuition, top of the reactionary
stack,
vertical order in a linear mind set with neuron-axon,
tactile response teams, responsible for being good,
doing some life-support-level good.
Not to steal and **** and destroy the functionally good
enough, but to steal back stolen idols used to divine.
Put some ****** good ideas to work again.
The ladder has not been needed.
Need being, nothing where some defined thing,
definitely could be put to good use,
we could do with a Babble-undoer. A clear-ifying agent.
If I do not this thing, this thing is never done, aborted
at first kiss, no taste, nothing sweeter than wine,
wine, I spat, at first taste, too,
nasty, not sweet, unless,
due to time and chance,
your first taste of wine comes right from the vine,
where the little foxes play at being little foxes,
as seen from a happy father/mother pair,
there in the vineyard, since sunrise, in the valley.
----------------
From the valley floor, we contain ourselves,
we content ourselves with shorter days
than flatlanders use, our shorter days,
come on slow, so slow, old men,
like me, we can walk to the top,
of this next little trough, and
see, out across the flat bottom,
where the ocean was in mastodon days.
--------------
If you will, some days this trail calls
for more stops to think, than when I ran
with my dogs,
I can not do that now, partly due to
too many people,
and no eating of dogs.
I, yes, if I try, I laugh now, with a fiftyish
riverside family man, laughing as he skinned
some shorthaired pointy muzzle kinda dog,
coulda been a rabbit,
or a pet chicken, or duck. Hand raised for 4-H.
I ran out of breath, and imagined you in particular, who I have
no name to call, yet seem to think I know what you mean, usual.
