And what of it that is
Eco-scape, mindfrogs
Vermilion and essential
What's needed 'cuz it's
Not already there like
Interruptions to thought
Because life in its hurry
Unstoppable wrecklessness
Chains us to each moment
Flogs and chastises::::
But all I wish to depart
Is everything's fine, thanks
And what of it that is
Wrong, overgrown, askance
Like a thought which can't
Seem to clear itself, make
A difference we're not
Even born yet are we
And what of it what of it
Why bother in the first place
As if chosen, decided upon
Unbalanced windmills
Torn from objectivity
Plants bushes and trees
And what of it that is
Eight-armed and phosphorus
What of it that is wet
And glistening, portable,
Listening::::reminds us
That we were never
Who we imagined we were
From that first thought-
Instant at birth to that last
Thought-instant at death
Never occurred to us
We are a series
Of thought-instants
And I could've used
That muse when worries
About money drove me
Over to madness when
What would others think
Preyed on me when
Dark brown clay-mud was
On my shoes and sheep
Paid me no attention::::
We without gravesites
Dance upon those with
And those without forethought
Imagination and language
Hop like frogs goddamnit
Like slimy legends
Based upon their own
Desires, their busride-long
Chants and demi-chants
And what of it that is
Recognizable, obvious or
Exactly recalled is nothing
If not sugar beets
Formed like man
Big-headed without
Arms hands or finger
Or with them
But stuck down the sides
The slope of the shoulders
A miasma from
The fields we cleared
Out of forest to warm
Our stone houses
Dammed the creeks
To water our crops
Trees like rain
In that they fall
Men like rain
In that they fall
Gray geese in
Formation honking
Informing us that
They're headed South
Even stars move
Through the heavens
In a will toward
Survival and what
Of it that is tranquil
Oblivious, nonchalant
What of it that is
Precarious wing-singed
Terraced and
Fragile, forgotten
And automatic what
Beckons us to be
Understood mellifluous
Gaudy in what pocket
Do we keep the flame
With which to purchase
The shame with which
To reenact the
Harmlessness of youth
Scattered and in-
Dignant fortified
Abundant like so
Much chaff so little
Grain so much toil
So little profit only
Despair is allowed
To ask how you view it
In relation to
Your self all others
That without name
The name of the name
Is no-name and
Only by way of
The name do we
Conspire to exist
And what of it::::
What lemon-broth
We warm ourselves
With remember when
There was a when
To remember remember
Reluctance heresy
Fortitude reclining
Figure half-spent
In the dust of what's
Forgotten is there
A mirror in our world
Which reflects lost things
Chambered and good-
Natured de-natured
Purified redundant
What of the turning
Leaves the turning
Around the turning
Of a stone to uncover
A city a network a
Civilization not unlike
Our own all that
Occurs in the decaying
Of a skull there's
Our mirror caves
Eye-sockets mysteries
We are alone in
The Universe because
That's how we like it
Osseous and plain
Simple unobtrusive
Prayers are complaints
Abstract knowledge is
Turbulence and balance
Fluidity plasticity
And god only knows
What good it does and
What of it that is
Reified and hungry
Mollified, burning
Unique and squandered
Like so much flour
Dusted from the
Table after kneading
Bread needing bread
Is how our body talks
Needing oxygen
The sun sleep and
Death::::really needing
Death for how else
Could we position
Ourselves in life
Without acknowledging
Accepting grieving
Fearing and dancing
Hopping, as it were
Settled and refined
Unmistakable lost
Foraging fostered
There are moments
When like cold wind
We experience being
Solid wounding real
And what of it that is
Useful we carry with
And what of it that is
Raging encourages.