Kit Kelen #1145 - this substance, this passion

1145

this substance, this passion

one plague for the plagiarists

and the plagiary obsessed

this is made

of what we have to say

from what was said

unthinking mostly, most of it

you echo with the thing

been there

not a god, except in here

on your own page

feint rules

best blank

until and if a reader comes

and brings you – stone to life

unstoppable

that’s when begin to play

open windows wide

it’s creatures of this world fly in

we see the flash sky

it’s not some freak occurrence

there are no angel visitations

nevertheless creeps up on one

scented with roses this day of all

it isn’t some rare precious thing

and dust it off in the good room to show

it doesn’t have to be by heart

came from an itch and an ache

and all knowing

nothing fell from up there

you might call that drought

but the tank we sip from’s deep with still

look in and be reflected

you won’t step in this river twice

little daemons are all around

in music everywhere reaching to be

for page, for air

toss up the switch and I’m machine

you were here with me before

join me friends

we’re writing this bible

no one else will read

not to ornament the argument

mind is elsewhere in it

you look the other way

it’s every day we are

making the mirror

hold it up higher than anyone sees

some days dizzy, tuneful, bung

or laid up in bed with

were seduced by it

and left another text

and do this     lovely!

every day

a whoredom of the few are paid

have you seen the wings

on which it goes up?

the one in accolades

inwardly draggles

name of mud

in time

fly the thing for pride now

humble to be home, committed

and all in doubts

and never

have you noticed the breath beside the beat?

the reach beyond the sky

it’s always another skin off

quest of the purer form

it’s the green thing grows from thinking

where just our words allow

always the latest  

always news

it isn’t some unnatural passion

but simply how words are

and never have been before

my rhythm in your head

my truth upon your soul

which is not a thing anyone has

and all this is forever

although there’s no such thing

allow that the words are ours to share

that’s all the ethos is

the poem’s birthday every day

that is my simple prescription

everything would be worse without it

that might be the best we can say

and have one on my no-stone please

Plan A is live forever

think I’m alone now

it’s time

when I’ve vanished

you’ll know where I’ve gone