Utopias

Blessed be the confusers, the confounders, the

obfuscatory weavers of misdirection and sleight of hand.

 

What is this epoch, but the measure of minutes

and products and ratios and, yes, coffee spoons, and

the maladroit humanism of bestial definition.

 

But blessed be those who rip words asunder,

tear the gaudy adornment from thuggish utility,

and celebrate the pain of a body

 

nude and shaking in a winter

rippled with the heights of expectations and

knowledge (so much knowledge!)

 

But to what end? For to tell it

is not to know it, or to be it, but only to

speak of it. And you

 

must find your own ejaculatory incoherence

be it even the same as mine and hers

 

(Such is the ready pine planked inevitability)

 

and of your own slavish rapture,

 

make of your time a paradise. 

Reviews

[Pryde Foltz]

and of your own slavish rapture,

make of your time a paradise.

We are all but mucking about, aren't we. Very intelligent write.

[MKERED]

Much appreciated. Thanks for taking a look.