I asked the god of experience to take my hand
make levity grace me so that gravity stops nagging
allow for objectivity to loose its hooking-me with interest
I want fluidity with boundaries all a wash
I don’t care if thought is directly hampered by such
my articulation should not be an assemblage of depiction
I don’t want words lined up to proceed with making sense
bleacher seats were before conception,
birth me with immersion as way, as means,
as in a memory-less now
I want for the windshield of sight as think coming on to me
and not the rearview mirror of thought nagging or taunting
as if backseat driver yap, I can’t avoid
I have this sense before I have a self as sense and sensing
all cogitation seems launched into an experiential spittoon
soul seems to have seepage beyond what structure denies
I want to bask in the unknowable without alarm or refrain
know is just gloves of imprisonment away from being
I am a being of no-being, as separate from all else as one
why are my operating instructions so demeaning to us all?
I asked for isness and got itness badgering me, unceasingly
if I am just complaining, I am doubly complaining
I am complaining about circumstance as it represents
but I am also complaining about not being capable beyond
as I am the success of failure to complete myself
I want out, or more succinctly I relinquish I, to want in
foreground be gone and background begin again
without naming names or citing as if as a skill of notice
be where fluid has no need of language outside of isness
the leap has no launch, no up, no land,
no dimensional confines to measure or ascertain
everything gives up of itself in passing
and nextness has no past tense to reference
and no future tease to embrace
now is only the all without knowing it
just the be, as experience waves good bye
to being the abstract of being, personified . . .
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