I Am Serious

Here we are in this great puss pimple of a garbage heap hanging out with these freaks and we do not know what for,

saying everything else has got to go!

It happens.

Nobody knows why.

Suffocation perhaps.

One stands and is joined by

a few more.

Suddenly a movement is underway that no power on Earth can withstand. What was nowhere is the world's headquarters for a spell. What a spell!

And it is over.

Did anybody learn a thing? Not really. But somebody made another killing.

Fashion.

I am looking for another who sees what I see. Are you there? Out there? Anywhere? I am Billy the Kid's alias step brother. No credentials. I heard a minstrel who is different. Calling into a vacuum of dark cold space that was my heart until it warmed and began to ache for unknown existence in a language never heard before. It calls for anything but what is the current style of dress and conduct. Misconduct. It says any fashion will do. To accommodate everybody. There is a language in every language that is understood by all. There is a voice which sounds out souls. Souls are formless realities that give every form its such-ness. Like the dialog of a play does to actors. Do not confuse the symbols for the sincere dialog, a formless wave. Waves without form need love in order to make cookies we can actually eat. When we speak to another we wave their being. In ignorance, we wave it wrong and they retaliate. In truth, with a low voice, love's voce, we wave it perfectly. Harmony happens. I used the word love. Nobody knows what that means. It springs from the unknowable. To un know. A word that is unknown is fresh. Is always out of fashion. It is better left undefined for it is not its meaning we want but its unapprehended nonmeaning-ness which gives sight to sore eyes. I am wispy filament and I am serious.