the how of now

now is the future. 

just explaining the present,

as in the catching up 

and being fluid with the past.

it's a reverse psychology, 

we all seem to fall for.

it's where the self 

is always forward-looking 

for a context of approval.

where confluence goes unnoticed, 

as a constant form of interruption.

where meaningful takes an upturn, 

as a meaningful in a belligerent stand.

as if honesty casts an obvious shadow

and where we all see these shadows, 

as confirming these dimensions, 

which we claim as appearing to be real.

as such, reality is a lit match. 

but no one is ever asking 

what are we mindfully smoking.

where recognition is the constant knee-jerk.

for why is the now, 

kept from falling forward? 

and we have say 

that finds other earholes to land in. 

in the constancy of the peopled surround,

this is all as if we had dreamed it.

and we can all be of this. 

we claimed we found

and if this, as quilting continues.

then we can all claim ourselves 

to be from this, 

as our quilting, be . . .