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Personal Note:
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Poem
the inside attempting to outside
each with its own absurd shopping list
we are after all composite beings
clumps and aggregates and glomerations
made up from all the faces we have seen
all the people we have imagined to have seen
in dreams and daily fugues
that is mostly to ultimately unintended
the question has always been
can different causes result
in the same expression
only if the picture is incomplete
said the village idiot
where any compromise implies knowledge
of a better and a worse state
from the point of view
of absolute longevity that is
which we'll shorten to levity
for convenience's sake ha ha
boundaries go thin go porous disappear
at the center of any fence line
at rest teetering with anticipation
knowing that the plenitude of category
has many many many
infinite infinite infinite
there the three fabled infinities
from which we form all our
attractions repulsions and amnesias
too often appearing strenuously
to be beyond our strength
and very way far too often
we redundantly do not wish to know
what we know
our conflicts errors and unhappinesses
and other archaic photocopy classifications
mutter excuse me from instant to instant
wildly erratic from time to time on schedule
but a self is a read head
and knows it is a read head
so take it out for a walk from time to time
for a little grassy knoll ozone
a little perspective a little expansion
being that time is derivative of space
and we derivatives of both
chronically failing to approach phenomena
or the contemplation of phenomena
as a factor of resolution
what did you do today
begs how much detail do you want
we can only conclude that words fail us
even as warning semaphores
look around you do the math
we talk and describe in a default shorthand
a "Cliff's Notes" with its contour
and pattern and calculus
shaped by servility detectors
with trauma skewed priorities
yes by cruel survival needs from infancy
helplessness multiplied by memory
where familiar is an understatement
in the disturbed sedimentary layers
next to the hammered pilings
of the city beneath the sea
unable to avoid neither itch
nor a flat iron to the head
occasionally leading us to observe unflinchingly
as you magnify or otherwise amplify
the dimensions of your personal silhouette
in divine ratio to your problems
that may recede but never disconnect
probability has always been
a smaller venue than possibility



From "Theater of Utter Charm"
Available on Amazon
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