Monday, July 30, 2018

Circumspect, with Reason

Someone asks you how you are,
and how your weekend was.
You’re not sure how you’d put
just what you did or what you do,
or rather what your system does
when it is given what it asks for:
those unimaginable masks and tasks –
symbolic actualizations – revelation
of which would seem almost to be
psychic treason.  You’re circumspect,
with reason. There are subtleties
that season your experience, nuances
that cannot be explained, whose
unconstrained varieties of existential
introspection that enliven your
insatiably delectably hot predilection
for impermanence – investigating
limits of the firmament you thought
you had begun to understand the last
time you pursued this line of inquiry –
but left you knowing you required
rewiring the console through which
you could exercise your agency –
amassing better data from which
you’d be able to effect at last
the transmutation into ultimate
refinement of the essence of your
being. Hard to make that into chat.
“Is there anybody special? Anyone
you’re seeing?” they will proffer
with a naughty wink. Let them think
what they will think. Right now
you’re seeing them – wondering if
they’d be cushiony to sit on if you
reconfigured them into a chair.
Might be time again to dare.

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