024O3U

the sickness of the world
that we assume goodness
where only a balance exists
between forces we cannot quite categorize
until you realize
the whole (thing)
is so that
the longer you live
all you hope to achieve is
some kind of decency
that i did not use or
did not take advantage of or
that if i did
knowing it i struggled to set it right
did not violate
some other
struggles hopefully parallel to my own
acknowledging the only saint
hood's implicit in the term
i do come to terms with
meaning
make it my own
saint
rug'll be pulled out from under
any moment on the turn of
knowledge
ground from which my thot
my feelings move
so rife with the necessity to be un
assuming
all it is is words
more all than my imagine
nary day i sat
wrote my first poem
bright awl of language
pun/cturing my notion of "the real"
all ready
32 or 33 years ago
embracing the ignorant knowing unknowing