I have looked longingly
at the occupancy of thought.
the staidness it can have,
as if gravity is on-call but waiting
for the emotional moisture to gather
on the surface where meaning smiles forth,
as if recognition will be a camera shoot of sorts.
the scenery of impactful meaning
is in a drive-by sort of way.
this is all just a comeback journey.
time is the vehicle of passage.
sensory kids occupy as passengers.
the motor of being human is running.
there are designated roads.
traffics jams seem to be on consensus terms.
is this the land of intentions
coming into frame?
opposing views are clearly passing near by.
everybody has language maps
or GPS quips of assumption that get used.
self-consciousness gives me ‘here to there’ designations.
everything viewed is the name of a town in passing.
is experience this vehicle I bought into?
where I come from originally,
there is no traffic.
there is no ‘here to there’.
nominality was not the scheme for movement.
thought didn’t have compartmentalization.
we couldn’t be having this as dialogue.
thought there, has no extensions or apertures.
there is one breath.
recognition is all chorus.
nothing syntactic occurs.
relevance has no ground-figure.
thought has no edges
and feelings remain undefined but whole.
yet, did I just order from a menu,
in a place that has isolation as it means? . . .
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