Diametrically opposed, prose and poetry.
However, deconstructed, we see their meaning
and resurrect it from the text,
recollection of knowledge but not just in fact
but in solidarity and affect.
Westward thought processes, assuming themselves,
panspermia retooling and at times cleansing linguistic traditions;
and once they are lost the ideas built lost with them.
An inner monologue is maddening
because thought can be transmitted as a fragment
but not in whole.
Spoken language has a multitude of formulas.
Written language has the same,
but it obscures its sameness with subjectivity,
emerging from an individual
and not from a collective consciousness.
Yet writing is not the general milieu of consciousness
and only occupies a small space in human history.
Language is universal, and self-propagating,
but writing only comes after agriculture
and division of labor.
Writing oppresses the mind’s thought with structure
and the free-flow of self-expression is illusory,
because it calls on others to follow the thought
of the one who wrote it.
It is only that concerned with dialogue,
corroboration, verification, falsification,
and self-awareness
that can be which exorcises
the demons of orthodoxy
with the religion of socratic method.
—
Fables are written with all love to Bacchus
The Goat One who loves his red wine
All of his Lovers are righteously raucous
With respects to His Knowledge Divine.
In life there are many pretenders
To the throne of Philosopher-King
Apologists are the amenders
That to Holy Vision sing
Ecclesiasts love the Trinity
To them all the knowledge is held
Within the total of what we can’t see
Eternal knowledge Springs Well
To that end there is another
And within all of us are object
“Why die,” they sigh, “my brother?
Because death is just a constant.”
All explanation is physical
And to that I have no retort
Such a play loses the whimsical
Why becomes how is their comfort
The self is a play on words
Respect all of Men’s accords
Within your head, steel your dread
And become well, whatever’s yours