Oh, words!
After all the obedience
we have given you;
in our songs,
our laws,
our beliefs,
our solemn oaths;
now that we are all listening;
did someone forget to tell
you what to do?

(Just in case)
"Words!
I command you;
Find your mark!"


-------------------------------------------------
History

When we first woke up
we had to realize how the world
worked again.
In those first few instances,
we can't remember whether
the things, "out there", are coming
from
our eyes or
to them.

Then we remember optiks.

Now we are awake
Like new umbrellas

------------------------------------------

In spite
I gave what I wanted
the less I got the more
I gave
In spite

But then I fell for it
myself

This is what desperation does
for you
It makes you do things
you wouldn't do

So what are the things
you wouldn't do?
Not because they are wrong or foolish,

Have you given
what you wanted?

Will you again?

-------------------------------------------------

They thought we would eventually tire of figuring out how everything worked without wondering why it worked. But we did not. Eventually, the saints, lost their patience.
First, a child noticed a cloud shaped like a WWI ambulance. Others looked up. Out of it stepped e.e. He was as big as the sky. When he spoke, the whole world heard him.

Out of the prisons rose a million Doestoevskys.

A sea of Melvilles flowed into the diamond mines, the gold mines, the goal mines, all mine, all mines.

Car radios started playing Beethoven and Coltrane.

Everyone had an uncle named Noam and an art teacher named Chagall.

Finally, Nietszche appeared on every T.V., every channel, every cell phone, every IPOD.

"Did you think we were our bodies? Stupid people, now you see. Now you must listen."

This really took a lot of the fun out of it for the saints, but it had just gotten so goddamned irritating!

-----------------------------------------------------------

I Make Bargains

I can trade one thing for another
I can take a book that's not well written
if it is profound.
I can take a book that tells the
same old story, if it is well written.
I can trade passion for unpredictability
or beauty for trust
I can love Picasso with the best of them
and trade him easily for a real Crow.

I make bargains, I arrange,
so that it is always the same thing,
found, again and again.

Cast it absurd,
in your world
without meaning,
that uses it anyway,
that uses it anyway.

What would I trade for that?
Why, nothing.
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