A clever psyclops

A clever psyclops

      she was utterly thrown by her matter of redundancy

which she deemed

                             unnecessary

a vagrant twinned backup

so

      she mothballed it

held it reclining

behind a black leather eyepatch

which on rare occasion

as a lark

luridly

      she stripped off its strap

and stared stereooptic

no argument

      she   was   disconcerting

but that was no reason not to pay attention to her

her fixity

her perceptions were unerring

it was very hard

to find holes

in her logic

or argument

      she seemed to be able to peer

inside one

and walk out

the fallacies and prejudices

which smeared

their deliberation

      she knew what they wanted even if they did not

and if ones character

was raised honestly

her perceptions

though uncanny

were dead-eye

accurate

1826,  Thursday,  5  9. 13

Sometimes

Sometimes

we havent the sense of a child

it weaned out of us

beat out of us

for the necessary education we must have

to articulate

                  the inarticulate

to make sense of nonsense

                                          and nonsense of sense

to compete

in a fixed game

fixed in as many ways as one is taught

                                                              to imagine

or fixed in imagined ways

Sometimes

we havent the sense of a child

and forget our wonderment

our crazy curiosity

the knowing-better than opening our mouths

                                                                     to crow proper accusations

when they are rudely due

we forget to play hide-and-seek

hiding in full-view

unable to be seen 

camouflaged in obviousness

Sometimes

we havent the sense of a child

to see all the other children around us

striving not to be seen

playing games of make-believe

                                                so hard

they believe their make-believe

unhappiness is happiness

unhealthiness is healthiness

they believe the dictation they take is their own

Sometimes

we havent the sense of a child

and we forget the blue day surrounding us

the yellow sun is a pat of butter

there is fragrance in a flower

                                             in rainwater

                                             tears

or hear the sound of a smile

We are odd

a lot of the time

 

over Nevada, day-between-two-Ts,  10  3. 10