In the Beginning

there was the Word,

and the Word was

. . .

–well, piecemeal.

Written on the inside

of a discarded burrito wrapper

in the middle of the night

–sans light, since even the Big Guy kept the wee hours shady—

a goodly portion of this scrawl was hard to decipher come daybreak

(the 2^nd day)

–the scribble in direct burro dribble downright illegible–

(too bad, because it was Good)

consigning 2 of the Original dozen commandments to the bin straightaway,

while the remaining 10 were ballpark at best.

Sure, the “do not kill” admonition

ultimately insured mankind’s survival in a manner the intended “do not kill time” directive probably wouldn’t have,

(over time, anyway)

and granted,

the dictate condemning theft

kept the masses in check

(and check-out lines)

to a greater degree than the proposed “do not veal” might have,

(tough on the calves in both instances, though)

but the instruction

to forego adulthood was completely misinterpreted.

Resulting in millennia worth of automatons,

and Grown-Olds quite impervious to

the daily wonders all around them.

(sliced bread, and people short on guts come to mind)

So you can see why a New Testament was in order, which by then, Thank God

Jobs and Gates were around to micro (soft) manage.

(that Apple was Originally a persimmon!)

True, the advent of auto-correct misconstrued the Golden Rule, and

“Do until others do unto you” was salvaged only when the G Man ran a half-assed spell-check,

and yes, the hyper-link to heaven was rife with malware

a certain disgruntled Wingman had coded,

(whereas wifi became the focus one was cautioned not to covet)

–but altogether, the kinder, gentler version

of the Almighty’s creed was a runaway success, and lo–

God 2.0 was branded.

 
 
Offended by lies,

I plucked all mine out

–as many as I could remember, anyway–

Swirl-swiffing webs, and

Chucking phony filters, and

Squaring all pyramid,

I shoe-blacked bits of white.
 
 
 
 
Going global, then, I removed rug, and

overpowered by the itch to truly feel the land beneath my piggies,

I crowbarred flooring, too,

stripping made bed there, next

(as it no longer served)

but leaving dog slumbering at its foot well enough alone, since

my Pinocchio proboscis was hardly his fault, and

his bark was just so tiresome, and

when only the prerequisite pillow, and

sleeping mutt remained,

I pulled every last tooth I had

(disabling enameled deception)

to place these extractions under cushion at bed’s head

–whereon I now also lay—

whispering to the down

all that was up,

I drifted in

&

bled out,

dreaming of

a Truth Fairy

and whether

she exists.

she was a Trampire

inclined to sink fang in anyone w a pulse

and he, a Wary Wolf

–Weary, too, pulling long hours as a Chewbacca stand-in on Instagram, and moonlighting as a wool-gatherer

(rer)

it seemed unlikely this Undead &  that Uncombed would ever click

–beyond fatuous likes on socially networked duck pics, at any rate—

so when they chanced to meet

at Witching hour

–featuring Bloody Mary 2 fer’s, Salty Dogs, and Full Moon Shots–

it was a star-crossed event.

(yes, the Kardashians were there)

An emoji-free, meant-to-be happenstance

(no, no one knows why they’re noteworthy)

during the course of which WWW and the Tramp

shared bar bills, contact info, and ultimately

a pasta dish w miniature meat-shaped balls among tactfully trimmed spaghetti skeins…

a Disney do-over just this side of PG 13,

the Wolf and the Tramp ultimately decided

their shared penchant for Coors Light

and trimmed T-bones frilled in silver socks

–not to mention macaroni–

was reason enough to take their

relationship to the next level

–a Carnival Cruise for 2–

replete with

toothsome midnight buffets,

batting cages,

and world-renowned, onboard barbers…

Monday

finds me full of zest,

my up & atoms–at its best,

and edgier for 2 days rest,

I hit the ground a’runnin’…

♦

Tuesday, too,

I’m still at peak,

confident the current week,

is conduit to all I seek,

rewardin’ work and funnin’…

♦

by Wednesday, tho,

I’m feeling surly,

tired’er for waking early,

less enthused with hurly- burly,

my outlook is deflatin’…

♦

by Thursday then,

I’m pumped for end,

of weekly grind—and prepped to spend,

my time away with fam’ & friends

–not workin’ now, just waitin’…

♦

For Friday—yAy!

(it’s come at last!)

and boy oh boy, I’ll have a blast!

these next 2 days, you betcher ass–

at 10 to 5 I’m sneakin’…

♦

Out the door,

to live it up!

To party hardy—pass the cup!

(But truth be told)

job’s kicked my butt

♦

–and mostly,

that’s my weakened…

the small of it’s

the all of it

the puzzle peace

jigsaw of it

in PIP is whole of it

and DPI full scroll of it

in single soul

the roll of it.

in particle the wave of it

in book the page innate of it

persistent wish the mage of it

one tessera is mix of it

not mighty wall–but bricks of it

each moment more than ticks of it

my MOD is key to it

and what i see

will be to it

thus carefully I tend to it

from now until the end of it.

Every day

I pick up my

attitude

–a discarded crumple on the floor—

duct taping away the dust bunnies of depression

from its crinkles,

scrubbing w a really old toothbrush

at the pain stains that leak

into its folds no

matter how hard I cap these pointed blues each morning

. . .

pinning the holes of loss

w old-fashioned safety pins

. . .

and shaking out the whole,

I concentrate on the brighter colors

–that defy repeated wear

and complement both sun & rose–

I rise,

(then)

and dress,

(now)

and decide

(also)

that the small details at worn cuff

are admirable,

–and lend to the pattern

at the heart of my outlook–

that there are yet beautiful buttons

there, too,

and the fringe at fray

is almost exotic

–tres Par’ee–

and squaring shoulders beneath unpadded

point of view

I step out

–noticing just how many of us

are wearing the same

outfit.

I thought

in roes.

Un-red,

&

un-said,

I thought

in molecular bubbles amassing within.

Un-scene,

&

un-herd,

–belief making the Way–

I found fish tales aground.

(nascent tales)

About

/——–/

so big,

/——–/

and that wide

and

tentative in my waders

at private pool

–that everyone & no one knows about–

I threw back the big ones

. . .

so I was able to see

the schools.