Daily toil, down at the pens.
Daily grind, down at the mill.
Daily drudge, down at the shop.

All done elsewhere now, except
the shop, where nothing is made,
but any thing a body wishes, is sold.

What is the worth of a chair? A throne?
The comfort acquired by the sitter?
The use made of time while comforted so?
I recline, to see.
Who reminds the poor soul to pray?
Who teaches the young to be reminded?
Who reminds the rich of answered prayer?

- me and thee, thou and I, du-sie-du
- folk dances from pre localities

ש

Shin again.
Crowned Tagged one.
Symbols, lets, reminder, pointer, pointed reed
rude pen of the poor, writ in blood of the lamb,
meekest of the beasts,
mark this
bar-aita, law of kosher we say so, {wait ai ta w?}
Moses
shanah nah nah shem shem shin,
read and re-read
and seek the sense in shin,
letter that lets the mind reel in years
of solid, inflexibly exactly right true,
traditions passed on for use
in governing the ungoverned… reminders,
written with a proper pen on a proper skin,

split hide of a special creature, killed
for this first reason, letting the mishnah live,
for the sake of the Torah,
for the sake of the believers in rules, as
the only bulwark against those unstoried mobs.

Who are we?
We are the people of Das Buch, nicht vvahr?
Having many books, we are rich, this is symbolized
on Youtube, with the bookshelf behind,
loaded with titles too blurred to read, but
loaded with knowns, knowable to the speaker,
standing sentinel duty, guarding the verity
of the messenger, silently supporting
all the messenger brings thence,
from what is written,
take what you hear and make the comparison.

Partic- particular- u u u
shanah nah nah shem shem shem,
read and re-read and seek the sense in shem,

shame, shame, shame, u d’blame, shemshemshem
secret order called in line, line up six ways,
seek any answer and find it there,
we planned it, see.

The arrangement of the symbols,
the hex, see, six sides of some things,
Dreidels, have four,
or six, if top is a side and bottom a side,
for a spinning body at
this time
all sense of posed pur and sur plus are gone.
The scribe has lost all sofering skill
subservient to the story
so told, errorlessly, alligned in all six ways,
to remind us
of the forces united to form now in time and space.

Six ways to Sunday. Rest in truth, each jot, yod
head and flame,
shin shem shem ha shem shanah

do be do be do be come see be came saw
la dee dali dawdle with the droopy clock,
slip in time to now again,
more and more again, aloss alas, the past.
ש

Spaceship earth.
It was a Bucky explanation. It has a legend.
It is easy to comprehend,
hard to ignore,
as the loop around the Dog Star,
loops along the lane Sol follows,
one more time,
following the laws, plural,

of time and space.

one tenth of one percent,
a dime on a hundred dollar,
buy from me, pay later, inflate
the cost of cash,
ignor the old saw saying
buyer beware,
borrower becomes servant,
indentured
as well as ever, hook’em up,
make the collar a fashion,
same as the elite, but off the rack.

And just below those, the fashionistas,
trend setters in the jet-set of bygone
glory days, just before the war
for the French connection
to lands and labor owned
– classes of ifity –
“Indentured servitude refers to a contract between two individuals, in which one person worked not for money but to repay an indenture, or loan, within a set time period. Indentured servitude was popular in the United States in the 1600s {oops}as individuals, mainly European immigrants, worked in exchange for the price of passage to America.
{that’s okeh}
The 13th Amendment to the United States Constitution, which was passed after the Civil War, made indentured servitude illegal in the U.S. Today, it is banned in almost all countries.”

From https://www.investopedia.com/terms/i/indentured-servitude.asp
– alas, the past
Wage slaves, buying the goodlife…
if we can keep this farm,
from blowing in the wind.

But now we got credit cards and student loans, deferred, con steady
interest in your progress to profit…
pay a little,
live a lot, remember,
free only means nothing left to do.

What did you do,
to buy your freedom?

I think I thought I could l read, then,
I learned all I needed to know,
truth known makes free.

But, that’s the key, see, you live
and learn to unlock the locks
embedded socio-dynamically
ש

Give your best shots away, even if they miss.

One moment, however long, a step
at a time…
like the last wave in Point Break,
in the other direction.
Thrive and prosper,
make the change,
fitting wisdom where such brings shame
when sought, take it raw, no offense, but
that shaman is sam the sham, I know him.

Distrust the bene-factuary
Rest assured the mala-factor, is the base,
the problem to be solved, the step
to climb, one per time
line on line, get one, then another, this
then that, the whole
including me, enclosing me, embodying us,
we, the earthling knowers of many hows,
and fewer whys, save the lies,
we keep in confidence.

The den, the hive, the pack, the nation
children of pride,
aye, the same leviathan, that was before
we knew the daysman betwixt us was,
referring to time from seed to harvest,

The entity America, in which I live, in my
bubble of knowns, extended and augmented,
contains a stack of bullshat tasks,
set as valuable by those in the know,
This article is about an American cultural commentator.
A hawk in my dove cote.

Hold your ground, gain new ground, make the world
free for the chaos of democracy,
or at least the projection of peace republics may
pretend to in leanings tending to ignor slaves.
Needful things,
known on need, indeed, do as you are told,
and know you did the right thing.
You know, the lie used to win,
information wishes,
as a thing much bigger than a nation entity,
In formative spir’tual patterns, spew from minds
set to say we in the name of a nation
or in the name of heaven,
ambassadors, novices all
apreachin’ our damned hearts out
– don’t forget the messenger
– what was that thought…

we, the wedom of mortal things, live in ever lasting
thought,
as all thoughts are, re-thought in perfected forms.

שּׂ

How strong is a vow?
Originally?
way back, let’s imagine, we have this knack.

We ask a question, in writing, or under certain
setups, we speak to a virtual servant,
as we see it done in sitcoms, silly-silly, sigh

I know,
as the world turns the young and the restless
remain the same,
one generation ages, along with its attendants,
attending dutifully daily, watching warnings,
learning lessons in the easiest way,
to grow fat and feel useless, and ugly, in everish ways.

It is crazy, how many kinds of crazy we can make, at will.
But, you know, some kinds are born, not made.
Or so, those who call you common, say they think.

Secrets, as true, sure, known to me alone, as waters
from my cistern, flood the streets and be
mine alone, the living waters, from my cistern
mixing in with waters from river meuse
to flood the history of industry, and force the muse
to lie,

she laughs, you may try.
Wrap the surface in paths
to places,
move armies, in far more orderly forms,
trains, and planes, and tractor-trailer
as a meander is obedient, so is any muse
amused in the spirit of the moment,
you know, instant in season hot
riverside flocking
trends of life, dammed to lift the power in to magnets
spinning e into the air as soft, silent smog of unknowing.
שּׂ

Promise? Swear?
I do.
Did you ever lie?
Is ever there the same ever in
ever after and ever before,
with now being the spot,
the blemish,
eh, the moment of mortal reality,
fit to this line, I write, you read, and
the attention paid here,
reaches you and is tested, for value,

time invested, is it worth whatever else,
you could be?
Your call, this is as a message to Garcia,
lost, for all reasons, that make temporary
tasks seem irrelevant to the evil of the day/.
שּׂ

Everybody knows how a laser works,
right. Like, the sarcasmical right,
the inalienable one
all sub-mature homo sapients claim
as an endowment,
that
“you ain’t the boss of me” idea.
Left brain say, right.
Like that.
Right,
the old man, says, I know.
You wanna bet?

Gain an insight, look into the mystery,
that lets a pointing device mark
space in virtual space in actual time,
measured in minutes…
seeking
so far the sufficiency of sufi sufferance
given way to god-likeness exercise, godliness
projected principally on the sons,
perfecting packages for souls set aside, for war.
Yet,
in full reboot, two souls embodied,
and framed to fit the scene, set.
One wombed, one un.
Take time to inner limits, move
to dreamtime,
tic.
Easy, right, once you know you know.
This is no dream, there is no boat to row.
שּׂ

‘Found that sheila from LA,
she married me, and stayed,
standing under the defined terms,
foresight forced me to define,
I swear, I looked up the meaning,
and meant it when I said it,
believing my word ties me
to my right reason – whatever that is,
to be
as I be, older for the time I took to see,
the line I crossed, that others felt meant
nothing,
we have no rule that says, I owe,
more than love to any mortal of my sort.

Set the record strait, audit the books,
wonder if the mystery of iniquity is honesty,
as the sharpest edge a smith could fit to blade,
scrapes parchment to contain the word of God.

Call for the pen of Jah, the ready one, the writer
who reads,
so it was a call out – generally,
all the messengers and the means,
at God’s beckoning, reckoned the best thing to do
is obey,
as it is said, the message is in a word, linked to all words,
read.
As a least said soonest mended messaging entity,
saying read was the perfecting gig for me, wait and see,
did the child read? No. Check.
Did the man in mid-life angst, read? No. Check,
why not?
Said he could not read, thought, especially read nothing.
Well the story as told at the time was,
not sufficiently enlightening
to make sense in Madrassah,
after we have the calligraphic perfect Quran,
uttered from a state of primal illiteracy,
recited, flawless, from a single source,
or so, one must hold truer than any truth, even if
an absolute real-deal message from TRUTH

fits a mask on every face, so we all are re-veiled,
the straight and the twisted,
taught tight tautology twice, then thrice, read
a statement that is true by necessity
or by virtue
of its logical form, do we need to know? The message,
in whatever the medium seems not to have had
much more than the idea in a word, and a light
that seemed likely what the seer thought he heard.

Boom, pop, likka polished gem in a laser zappin’ floaters
in the clear pond twixt sky and eye,
look into my eye, wonder if yours is so delicate.
sociare “unite with,”
Attention bought in glimpses,
see the meanings all sort in harmonious stacks,
patterns of perpetual reuse
of use
by teleomerical counters, clicking in constant
Avadhānaṃ
– in this medium we live. How or why, we needn’t know.
– in time we live to learn and leave a step-up, a way
– easier way to pass the final days.
– Less wu wu, more attending to the previous knowns,
– looking into holy writ once translated or transcribed
– directly from the language that bhor the word,
– that was god, in the beginning,
– just to be clear, e is not equal to mc squared,
awake and remember not dreaming,
stop rowing
see
shapes of things to come
using only words,
set as points of present tension pulling, drawing as a plow,
the pen of the reading writer, knowing better than
any mentis ever yet, the reader who does not read,
is less useful than an ox, faithfully treading the corn.

Global grain gods and goddesses, as the old esses say,
feed all the families on earth,
spread abroad in unpredictability, as a rule,
to begin with,
once the mob goes mad, and all that they imagine
is only evil in their heart, core os, intuited accuntibility,
aware of dogs in heat, snap back,
do not touch me, I am vulnerable,
at the moment,
if you please,
or if you don’t! POW, to the moon,

wow. I missed that. 1969, I can’t recall much after May,
until September, or so.
I musta had the Triumph, and I know I had the nameless dog.

Driving backroads in Arizona, me’na big, longhair-gray collie wolf
kinda creature, who appeared in the first month,
after the war was over, for a season,
until September, I remember
being asked by a guy who styled his head
with a Stalin ‘stachio – I was asked was I a Communist,
I had no clue,
on that stage, in that scene, I was an agent of confusion,
nada mas. No destruction, only instruction, toned down,

since the VALIS report was taken as granted,
all you can, the angel said, read,
whump, dump

okeh. it is 2021, and you have the Library that holds the
Encyclopaedia Galactica, with the Hubble Deep-field appendices.

You be here, that’s a fact. What you do here, remains to be seen.
Are you itching to know, what the teller knew,
who told of knowing being forbidden,
who spake with author-status to teach by virtue
of marks on stones, revealed, veiled each telling time,
revealed for each seeking time,
some things we never learn,
until we are too old to redo
the wrong done, nor undo the right to do it.
Double negs are positive.
Stickit in the shady side.

no shin

Clear, set
The ciliary body is a circular structure that is an extension
of the iris, the colored part
of the eye.
The ciliary body produces the fluid
in the eye called aqueous humor.
It also contains the ciliary muscle,
which changes the shape
of the lens when your eyes focus
on a near object. This process is called accommodation.

From https://medlineplus.gov/ency/article/002319.htm

That clear ok. human eyeball self formed aqueous humor,
righteous, right use, of water,
we do know how, some how, see.

Deep water fight to take rule,
make rules, chirality at the level of real,
not the level of now,
now is corroded with history…
– no, chrome saved the bread crumbs,
– it stores bits of history immediately, like since
– 2016- we break in from the future and add
– random shit? Okeh
science means
means means,
I’m lost in terms interminably imbalanced
on the face of it,
facere official artifice sufficiency of evil,
after getting out of bed
is the hardest thing you do, and you like it.
– so fake that until you make it and that is me.

I like it, okeh. I like being old and accountable,
and- get this, this state, is difficult not to lie about-
I like knowing anything I wish you knew,
and not caring if you don’t,
I like
knowing the truth of emulation, man or machine,
where there is no ox the crib is clean.
Epimenides was joking; Paul was serious, he believed.

Cretans, natives of the Isle off the coast of Atlantis,
they are always
always liars
child hears always, little log of power words adds al ways.
Now we have two, power phrases for stupid dreamers.
Visionaries, sorry,

I was in character. I have one gran’daughter that
emulates the bossy little bitch in Rugrats.
And the bad chick in Pokémon.
I was being her, without thinking,
she sticks in your head after an encounter,
she alerted me to the poser power phrase collection,
always, according to —
– we always say according to authority
– I always say according to scientific knowledge
now, I see those everywhere
a seeming senseless squabble, over an unknowing
attracts attention…
answers arrive apriori, already there, the effect
of being old and consumed by the words that frame
the form we used to stretch the hide,
kosher, to the gnat-strainingest old conserved trade,
pay attention here,
we know you pay attention t’ the porkbelly breaths,
listen,
this is life, it ain’t no zero-sum game, this is after you
made up your own mind.
You find stuff like this to read, and it leaves you

wondering, nada mas, no angst, no war to be ready for,
wonder at its esse-ence sighing scientific
nextifity from this little bit of wonder
made up on the fly-
spec, of a once placed safely on a time. For a dime. Same old dime.
As the bad penny was, so must be the Liberty Dime,
it is the smurf cap, that must be the secret.

All the ones on Ebay are fake. Phrygian knock-offs.

And another thing, you are privileged to live
at all, but to live, now, with the power to read this,
you know as far as inner peace is concerned,
you have passed the hall of mirrors,
once in any generation is enough,
we get the futility
of resisting ai ai ai
artful intuition honestly saying
that wishes are better than horses,
and beggars do ride,
hmm, many are called,
one is sorted out,
as the one that wandered from the flock,
or was it aimed at one who climbed high, to see,
egregious error, being seen by a lion, thinks the scientist
as one young buck, rises head and shoulders, higher,
to warn the herd,
there be lions,
on the edge.

Which edge- see, if a warning needs be made

needs must it be made plain as day, any where.

Back to the wedding garment.
all who came properly garbed, eh, fashion, in the day,
one came to the wedding, in rags,
and he was cast out, you see,
I always feel for that guy.

I do know why. How could he have done better,
call the referee, this man has no e to spare,
and he is hungry, eh, one of those,
ye know, useless to feed and care for, subhumans.

No, I don’t wish to debate doctrine with me,
I wrote the Pope’s Secrets, and went into the biz,
after surviving the Alamo, no worse for wounds.

I heard the word.
Forsake not the gathering of yourselves together,
as the manner of some is…

of course, go to to church, then
now slowly occurred, step by step, I heard the word:
why settle for the simple,
when the sublime is but one more step…

try a taste, test the rest, think a while, we
are all in this thing together. This is the only earth,
it works okeh with out us,
it never surrendered the auto pilot code in the crisis,
as we now know,
we must have, or the left –

left right is weak. too much of our acceptance.
we accept personal ambiguity and allow our chirality
to be robbed of direction,
port and starboard remain bow-left and bow-right
when the helmsman takes a spin about the poop deck,
and gazes where a wake would be
if this were not so real a feeling of dead calm
on the broad saraggasso sea.

Whisp the we puns awry away, twist new sense in being
worse for wear,
in a famine for the word of god, time is moneie man. men.
think we win, we won,
always at this stage. It is a game, honest. This part,
it’s just a game.