Night Time
A darkness that guarantees shelter
From the scorch of the burning Sun
A time cherished after the light
And assures rest from the day's work

A time of unprecedented happening
When good and evil shake hands
As they each take turns moving men
Like pawns on a chessboard
One trying to checkmate the other

A time when men sleep but don't sleep
Where powers that be meet and greet
A time when angels visit and demons possess
Binding us infinitely to the Divine

sweetest poet,
climb forth from the deep trench
in my heart's wound
and quench my thirst for love

doctor of sensual phrases,
compose the melody, cure this malady
with verses that expose the affinity
that is inherit between her and I

satisfy the insatiable desires
of lustful humans yearning
for each other's skin

word smith,
chisel the spell to summon an orangy sunset
for the light will soon expire
as we conspire to set our bed on fire
for here, no consequence is dire
 
master lyricist, 
orchestrate wisdom in phrases
of sensual whispers that ripens
her delicious fruit until it drips
her brand of honey

and last
to the dear poet within,
"the muse awaits, so let's go
set the night on fire!"

I'm going to finish my book,
I'm going to finish my work.
This time it will really happen,
This time it will really be read.

re reading readily past and present read
read real as a word for what we do
so steadily balancing known on known,
thinking some things at the same instance,
we knew the will to tell, and knew as well
the will to listen, to learn while thinking,

to me
this means that

losing my breath, reaching your reason,
tuning our times to the musical mathematics

all matter is dust, all thought is spirit,
all memory has a price prepaid, the flaw
we may imagine,
maya, Kabir suggests to Rumi, and I ask
might justice mean what Karma does?

The nameless suggester, be it muse, or
some detail in a day so long ago it seems

forever, onward, outward, inward fretting,
lack of knowledge, sublime serpentine bending,

folding, creasing, not snapping in rigged tension,
compliantly bending the knee, image-visualize,
meandering streams of everything,
realize our link to thinking marked taboo.

Discover why secrets are so typical of life,
in bubbles where our sapien relatives live.

All men, wombed or un, catch phrase, me
included, learn in sequence, literally faster
whosoever
than at any time in ever before, we know more,
truth, conscious use of useful knowings shared,

to our advantage, supposing us capable of leading,
while braying mindlessly like a
sotted piper, blues on a fancy Hohner, here we go

asking reception signaling the surfing analogy,
lift us as might those children we see ourselves, once,
imagine turning at the first star on the left, using
Peter Pan, then Peter Principle, from Canada,
Laurence J. Peter, appears in color,
dressed in polyester 70's gear,
as would have looked cool on TV
while McLuhan was doing his thing.

Fit the mind into the hard problem,
let it seem the spiritual force, why

imagine satisfaction while satisfied?
What a man hath, why doth he hope for?

As when Lobsters stack for social duty,
forming hierarchies, certainly,

Delphic precepts urge recalling 1, 2,  3,

know how empty you are, know how small
your little lamp, asking measure mete,

nothing spilled remains thine own, surplus
is for general consumption, evolution taxes

the comprehension of the universal conversation,

we find old rules used to form governable clusters
of us, tabula rosa versions of each of us,
mirroring imaginable completed visions,

like Google Earth, eh,
imagine, we live there, and where we see from
is this imagined plateau in nowhere, really, just
imagine, spell binding,

how newly known is all we know, each time,
the economy collapses and we are left wondering,

was the pile wrong at the bottom, first test of load
bearing Lobster pride for being most useful, calling all

come climb on my back and become the memory,
of original reasons used to do truly childish things.

Roof high stilts was one we succeeded at,
having seen it done, doing it was nothing,
couple of old two by fours, common
artifacts in growing towns out west… nailgun
misfires come to the magnet rescued
from the uncoiled motor
on the old concrete mixer. Grandpa had hammers.

Life with electricity, safe bet, you never had no choice
but to live in a world without power… industrial strength,

but the stacking order adaptations from King of the Hill,
does evolve a kind of specific survival set of reasons,
make do, make things change, to become ladders,
and then stilts, to walk along the Al Can Highway
waving at the tourists on their way to Vegas,
as society evolved around us, hiding wrecking yards,

all the weights in the bag, when balance is primary,
all the weights prove their worth, be it true to fair.

We can think we know less than we must to finish,
but that is maya talking, the cloud of unknowable's
tyrannical kind of order,
attempting to dam the flow…

first king reason, ready to speak up and say, I know.
I know, yes, just
what you mean by too much,
too much
water in your cistern, let it flow down gutters
intelligently placed to slow erosion,
leaving
first pure, mere thought bought by breathing
consistently for seventy five years, attended to
by books that my grandma read as a child,

and my grandchildren read this summer.

Presently passing on the purpose of first and last.

Oblivious to why he would write Clueless of how he could Fight,
Wishing he could handle one more night
To Many Deaths to hear any Insight.
Just a Simple Wish of Something to go Right why the **** would he have eyes that look Bright ?

Last thing you have to do,
in your bag of things you have
in mind, that must be done, before
finality sets all you lived for
in allegorical stone, for
example, ensample
being subtil until
the inside out
recognition

set the next generation straight,
using ancient innocent Disneyifity.

Tinker's solder dam seen into once,
and being seen seeing, the seer chose
to loose the reason we've begun choosing

from nothing, something everything is made
from or of or in or on or a gross or so more
pre-positioning facts,
every where we look,
there it is, nothing is impossible
to do right. On the last try, you die.

Guaranteed.
………

they receive, interpet, discard, rehydrate, delegate, redistribute,
brook no, smile stupidly at stupidity, opinionate but never lecture,
never hector, rarely curse unless it is essential, tell good jokes, abhor verbosity, act on instinct, admit error when instinct stinks, sharpen
their teeth, their tongue, and their verbal reciprocity skills

in case,

life becomes interminable intermittently intolerable when other creatures impose, flagellate, pontificate, render the impossible as quite likely, reveal things I wish I never heard, detail the details of the inexplicably intricate uninteresting with prodigious force, and an unlimited absence of periods, commas, or breaths taken,

and escape
impossible for some meetings require good manners, first dates the remote but not trivial possibility that a false start has or can occur,
(see The Pleated Skirt poem) and the incidence of really good books in very poorly designed book covers…ditto the men variety of same!