Bottom of the stack,
first shall be last
each line has the potential to lead on, read on
confer, compare parallel ports pulsing in
synchronisity
goodness knows wrong ain't ever right,
nevermind whys and hows when
nows calling you by kind
ask attention
still
reader
read this, you are the few,
other than me, I know you allone,
Dear Reader, whose name you alone
may now know
in your one
integrated, tooled-up, read-up, curious
and curioser
self.
---
words hold whole thoughts in harness,
letters let them live,
writers make them work,
poets pay them mind to find reason and
metre in the spiral of knowing
growing steadily meeker
as peacemakers take
the call as op
portunate,
fortunate. Good for goodness sake and
no measurer yet devised,
no witty invention,
can make you listen to patterns
scattered in the noise,
still,
time keeps its steady pace, irreversible.
all parallel paths cross mine, eventual.
vente vide vince but (vente was the size
of my coffee, I think) I think,
history waves a banner, see
it says many wrongs
did not come
past last lie believer ceiving a source
of knowns unknown re
making, fect per effect ual, right,
the basic idea.
You have need of patience,
curios and kachina songs and liter
ary urges from words
once stuffed with meaning, right, like
each word is a clay jar,
a vessel for a thought spoken right,
as my servant, my re
feree confounding my accuser for ever,
in a word. Hide and watch, or sing and shout.
The basic idea claims any word may be redeemed,
but the utterer must give account for every idle word.
The house-dweller,
the non-nomad, who labors,
who efforts,
who sweats and frets and fusses over seed
sown in history
must first partake the fruit.
Not ever must an idle word be
let alone to fester in rot for lack of
a taster to test the truth,
a darer
of daemonic algorythms pulling
the very air, air, atmostfear away oh,
see,
the arctic ice is adapted to by the
basic idea that things survive
as life lives, within the
field named
HIggs,
worms hold out promises
see,
the arctic ice is the scab being
ingested slowww glacial slow, soon
weather will find the pattern.
All things work right,
nothing works wrong.
--
Lemme say,
for a while, as defined by mortals,
we taught. We words took no other pose,
played no role save to hold
ideas taken by men to serve a human plan.
'Sup.
That quest ion. How ahye? serves as well, but
Sup says more. What is up? op
positive to down, related to spins named
charming and strange for reason
known to a very few.
Some where in there, is a base, a standing place for idle words to plead a purpose sufficient unto the evil of the day. Any idle word, fittly spoken, can be as "apples of gold in pitchers of silver, or is that pictures of silve?
