A tour of the ruins,
long after the stories have
gone the way of Liebowitz’s Canticle.
A we chant we sang while weaving mandalas,
to the beat of the comb,
fingers dancing warp and weft,
clack clack stick dance,
timing laughing for the fall, when it slips
the tie in timing
trying
test
ting pull tight keep us in tune
screech
sour note, nearly forgotten, teacher’s gone
screech of unbitten finger nails
announcing a little devil’s will
to be seen as out of line,
see, out of line, me, see, sour note, screech.
— the world becomes
a Saturday Evening Post cover
signaling thinner and thinner signals
echoing hope through the transition,
“What hath God wrought?” to
HelloPoetry.com, et al,
in two hundred years,
non-stop dropping knowledge,
did you ever agree that knowing all things something in you that can thinks, thinks so… that
is a thinkable thought,
Chalkboard dust sneeze
Not so long ago,
the chalk board was invented.
In less than two centuries it evolved,
functionally extending to the Zoom of 2020.
– few children know the way the screech is made
We do not live in Ben Franklin’s America.
– they had no wall sized slates to scratch
– the alert is inborn now, at a thought,
– it triggers the clench
– be ready
As useful means possible good to use
to make ends in mind, make the vision plain,
at the go, after settling and readying
– an open mind
– attending to open source data streams
– living and learning as the mortals dream.
Art and Science,
Life and Knowledge, time and distance,
here a point in there,
where you’re aware of my otherness
only in time,
the space is the same pale blue dot.
(from PIE root *ag- “to drive, draw out or forth, move”).
From https://www.etymonline.com/word/demagogue
aggressive progress regress egress ingress
ag me on, start the fire
rising by degrees,
sinking in transgression… agging on the bull,
sending red signals, and lighting green lanterns,
Christmas time, reiteration of the mission
accomplished, all promises set to yes, and amen.
Look again.
Clean slate, that new idea, on a five panel
chalkboard behind the sage on stage,
acting as if the guess is the best
so far, proven to the same
answer Dirac did not like,
“ever never ends.”
After ever before,
eventually, the valleys fill with the mountains,
and the wind returns to curry the forest,
survivors find books,
and survive by burning …
As time appears asking attention paid
in arrears returned to present
-peace be with you
-Frisbee like, catch, like a spinning plate
from the past we see
today, from here, the exact
point of no u-turns, stopped,
idling smog into ever, for future
carbon sequestering jobs,
when there is nothing to do,
while life governs itself, while
we shall all watch life slowly retell,
the long story built on original events
stretching our mortal story to its endtime
last
loose end.
Forces field questing ions into push or pull,
as warring toddlers, flipsides of the nested knowns
wise-dominion, never fear,
the beginning of wisdom,
Phobia and Philea felt a little regressive
regretting reading read-
justments on ality, as seen on TV, ad
vert— turn, turn advert attention
at
point b. see. A point of no return, aim
see, point b. Count the shades of green.
Reach for the shining thing that seems
good for food.
Did you bring hate?
Watch. Read this spelling once more,
swallow each word whole syllables nibbled,
take a taste, psalmist sang…
the place was filled, I’ll imagine with a soft
yellow fog… and the fans were fanatically
called to attention,
my sheep hear my voice, as with any such as I.
Listen, stranger, some anthropro-ject-ion pings, we
agree to think in words, noises make no common sense.
– so we shall spin-off…
Listen. Sh. Listen. Life is using machines to add rhythms,
that calm, if you listen,
close your eyes and listen. No u turns.
Did you never notice,
the second mouse gets the cheese?
Country mouse says, “no, I never did.”
suprachiasmatic nucleus
tic off the times spent, no, invested,
by a made-up mind in constant dialogue,
with muzak in the mix
of wind and bugs and birds, whimsy et
al serious use of ludicrous curios, play full
imp pulses
points
in contention for marking time,
impressing reason to think about time,
rationally, finite, for you,
they say, they know,
I am seeking the source…
ah, yes, the flow in which our rivers
and winds and other flowing matters live,
and have
being, go do being, in time, in eternity.
Yes, as we know,
-everything is, currently, in the course
of human events, from the virus struggling
to trigger immunity in mortals,
to the farthest reach of our global eyes
on our global windows through space in time,
with/ in the moment.
Man seems the only marker of time. Selah.
A temporal prediction area,
here is where fools say boo, for a laugh,
the ready warrior child, ever ready, for a scare,
stares
and does not laugh at foolish boos, tempting
to scare a child,
fear is never funny, that is not what fear is for.
Alarmed kitchen ants scurry, fuming pheromones
scurry ascurry, runrunrun, hide in the grout,
over time,
we learn from the ants,
to forage in the dark, making
peace, peace in the Jainbent mind beguiled,
by life sending broadband signals through
the third and fourth generations,
– mankind has gone mad, abort…
– no more unwanted children.
these are the days foretold,
the whole map of meanings is folded,
once, more, those who endure
the transition, rule the future.
This is ever, you are temporary here.
But you have permanent now,
and nothing to do that ends the world,
or finishes the fix you had planned,
before your better nature knocks you out.
If every man could juggle time,
the jugglers would think
non-jugglers disabled,
– perhaps dropped as a child.
– or starved
during evolving processions to now,
seeing as how
dune-folding’s fractally unchanged,
done heaps slide at the kiss of a breeze…
time being as it happens to be sliding by
line upon line…
precept reception at full squelch, shh sh sh
soon the sun goes down,
and we can hear around the world,
on a crystal radio, really.
