this is what.

This is what, the moment where the clock ticks and i write something profound?
This is what, the breath in which the heart beats until I grasp what surrounds?

This is what, the thought that saves mankind, the action that acts a salve?
This is what, the nothing that begets nothing that begets nothing at all?

This is that, the thing that I excrete on the page and leave for another.
This is that, the shit that I smear on the walls.

when i breathe i breathe all breaths (and so to do you)
when i sleep i sleep all sleeps (and i hope you do too)

when the sun warms the earth, it is all suns.
when the moon lights the night, it is all moons.

there is no place but this. can you make it a happy place?
there is no happy but what you feel. can you make it worth feeling?

how we walk through this time, is how we've walked through all others.
how we wonder and grasp, is how they've all wondered and grasped.

the whole world a single flower, can you show me the way?
the single flower a whole ideal, can you show my the why?

this language is twisting, running and listing to port.
this tongue is now kissing, so profligate a a gift.

the lines are now splitting, scampering this way and that.
the meaning is shimmering, giving us just enough light.

the light is now fading, off to the right.
the dawn is now breaking, on to the left.

with this weight we wander, not knowing our selfs.
with another thought we ponder, no result to lift.

another another another line another.
bother don't bother don't bother my brother.

this word this world this wandering world.
his word her word like there is an other.

all of us y'all of us pall of us here,
tall of us short of us all of us near

the end we all work at not knowing the goal
just as the the doe knows not the foal

yet tends to bend the world to make
the soul that follows us in our wake.

yet again yet again
die again try again

rye again gin again
sin again sin again.