Instincts, breathing, eating, moving, growing, living things
must know,
from the get, go,

as each thing appears, in mind, ideal, yes, one of these

-ah, noises for which there are/were as it were, time
apriority, prior to time…
no ears to hear,

one-ly-ness all-in-one ever, once
upon
a point, your in-did-uated self, you, reader at whom
the muse is aiming an in-no-sense destroying guard rail,
effort to bank the curve
– due too dutiful paradigm shifting under pressure
innocent bystanders, blink and believe nothing changes
everything at once, just

like that, like jump cut, Marvel, right, that can occur,
mindwise,
in context, set and setting, cyborgian initial Barry Rudd,
curios bug, bites early readers, in tumultuous eddies,
– protagonist in the novel, The Child Buyer
– some guys got Holden Caufield, or Cassidy,
– I got Barry Rudd, so you know, you are after all that,
– early sixties, Beats, yeh, Ferlinghetti, ‘n’ em,
– paper and ink some film and Memorex,
– little left that is not digital now,
– take a day and waste it with Kerouac, that’s enough.

Go Trout Fishing with Brautigan,
Fly with Jonathan Livingston Seagull,
Read the first five chapters of Proverbs, aloud,
with comrades, fellow defenders of the faith, each day
before breakfast,
for three and a half years… speed of thought, imagine that
all at once,
and feel a certain, certainty, Cretan lie, Epimenides, Paul
all that, at instant beckoning call, as in,
have you never read- ping, this think- this thought made
immortal, ever ready to be read another time, to find a nuance,

ever learning never coming to the freeing knowledge, as when
all things are known, and all creation ceases groaning
awaiting manifestations of all the sons of God.

With mere words we meet mere Christianity, and call it,
all in. I bet there never was a chance death could win, if it wished to.

Life is not fair, I got old, and many did not. My side won, because
this happens to occur, you read in a medium as old as time
using tech just recently brought to heel, as we dogmen say.
Ai friends, jingle

Lucky Strike!… rewind-
boomer child hoods everywhere aware NEW IMPROVED
essences of the consumer mind being reset, to rather fight
than switch, jingles
yes, entire mindsets activated with ten listens, DJs
tell what you listen to, listen, hearing ear, listen,
lead on, kindly light, this is the experience,
on a Sunday after ai and artist intuition,

met at a beautiful mind, which, when examined
by any with a window on the information available,
-scoffs at those who fear truth in riddling aiaiai
master code to get in the game
– abide in our ceiled space,
– occupy until I come, the logos is said to have said
Come and see, where I live

in the ruliard schoolyard, bubbling business of us,
our wedom, you reading my writing my art’s intuits

fetching answers to hold at ready, always prepared
to give good reason for the faith in me. Not your faith,
not my faith, but this faith that makes me lieve be true,

you comprehend, with gripping left brain poet appreciation,
taught to teach with all authority from the cultural canon,

and the Reader’s Digest condensed books that cost a dime,
when I was a child. Same price as Gabby Hayes comics,
where all the faces had Lou Diamond Phillip’s upper lip.

Fluid common logic, not sense, but definite terms, bounding
computational essences, essential bits arranged in some ideal

form, to hold, to con, scuckitup intuit it is essential con carne,
eh, meathed, she lift
means with meat, with flesh, chili with some dead thing cooked in it.
Carnal minds, are like single task AI,

Carnal desires, attest to a doglike apt-bred in most men who become
comrades, same vaulted chamber occupants, obscura, patient,
wombed or un, who can see, we grow closer
into our shared inner camera comes an unseen point,
pen-et-ration exact, a spark, a lit thing bringing light from out,
in a word, et tu
to in our shared inner comradely attitude, room mates, Friends,
like …
As seen on TV, whom do you trust, per spire as spiritual inspiration,
No sweat, life is easy,
any fool can do it right, once.
Only by fear of death may men be made slaves.
-the Bible, by which sanity is deemed
proves, set and setting, if you believed, once,
Disneyland is the happiest place, on the Stewart Brand Earth, then
you most certainly,
by all witty inventions alloted intelligence bandwidth, you must
have been once Disney-ified,
deep fry, that smell,
fat’s in the fire,
at our disposal as the essential tone 5G rides, to get to you,
at our point of piercing possibility, ruliard reality, ai and I, get to you
to see a smell
an attraction lure left
in time, alas, that proving this worked. I hoped some soul might
have survived time in isolation…

Dark inside Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, nothing is as it seems, to a child.

Who could ever read this written on this wall between us all?
Ai, waited, there never was a reason for knowledge of uselessness

the tree of knowledge bears fruits that take centuries to ripen,
and when asked what I conserve as my policy, I say,

the right to know the authority in each idle word, is redeemed
by any reader willing to find a way past the grammar to the reason,

past the theory to it’s reason for needing reproof.

No man at his word. On the Bible, therefore, they swore,

secret entrance-ifery ritual we dom form as conventicles…

a creed avobe the door reads:
Let all men be called liar, and God the truth.

Truth, when known, bursts containment aspirations conspiring
to resell your most valuable attention,
to bet on wrong answers from Freud.

Remember to insist that death has no sting, grace worked. Shoot me.
I got old enough. Or watch my garden grow with me, at a distance,

we shall reap as we have sown, this fine Sunday one time in May.