2/1/14

I like the controlled, refined space of my work table when I write in my notebook.

Scene Change

My dreams have moved into a new house,

with glass doors and religion,

Fat babies scurry here and there

happily unaware.

Mindful

 my mind full

 is not empty enough to

pray or pay

attention to the day

Here in the Up Hill World

let the inflating flatulence of history

be carried out, dismantled and deflated

and placed on the river

to be retrieved and reorganized downstream

They will use the material for house frames

And garden boxes, landfill and cornerstones.

We have no use for it here up in the tidelands

Where the flat thinkers dwell.

We do not build up, but out, ever out

Expanding our domain beyond use

Or care, we will always use more

When less is called for

Need Is replaced by want

 whenever possible.

Big things are long and wide

Tall things take up ground in shadows

Obsessing on their girth, but unable

To let go of even the most useless

Part or piece.

It must be sold not given.

Giving is the unforgivin sin

All must have a price even joy

Must be valued.

Is it prime joy or just average?

No one wants anything sufficient.

It must be the best and boldly

Called out so

Or you must not be satisfied.

Satisfaction is only guaranteed by envy

Or in some cases Better performance

to a degree unnecessary for ordinary use.