Protesting, I, rise, e-raising my hand,
in ranked row,
three from the front, in the middle,
a glance,
and nothing more, and another,
Aseneth was her name, and she hated it.
She said.
Many were the flirty glances, unrestrained
wonder
what is different,
is this ink, or scar tissue?
Eight billion essentially identical minds, in use,
being tuned to consume elemental mental
as we form from base material, mother stuff.
We think in single words, letters let us do this,
that which formerly prevented, lets us do this now,
do you read me is not valid protocol on a voxnet.
You know. Five by five, is not valid either, listen.
Does your memed mind hear me now, Brown Cow,
Dao a do nothing dues paid note, this is business,
this is what the messenger in charge,
special agent,
secret agencies allowed, in my mind, baby, listening
constantly, no time,
silent,
only imagining Major Tom.
Waking spacy Sunday Morning, unre-tied to the strand
of faith that wound the core hard ball of pure rubber,
vulcanized, for bounce,
CRACK of the bat, where once, no, each once ever,
the feeling
one side, then the other, being mentally cognoscente,
cognoscenti, either way,
we both know, we both take knowing duty as demanded
of the code
we obey. At the command. We pay proper attention,
not too much of any thing,
take your own measure,
remember, certainty is bad mad solid state, bricked.
In a sermon writing state of mind after reading poets alive when I was young.
