Does it matter any more,
this memory drift of moments,
like daze of haze in a sunbeam,
unseen until the light hits just so.
It's plot
Doesn't matter anymore, they say,
the old anchors cut loose, ( never)
the maps crumpled and tossed
Possibly only crumbled
into the indifferent breeze.
Is it they objecting now, ( I have no idea)
this murmur beneath the surface,
a quiet consistent disagreement
with the shape of the now?
(Makes no sense) Does is it matter more for
What's left to who is how is right?
Left it the same as the day is or was it not
Does it matter anymore, really,
when an object becomes the focus,
the bad , deniable thing
It's off ten no need to question
The ugly, we can not not stop,talking bout uglies
It is so the good liable think,
thats weird to notice where feeling used to be?
I know this
More of the world, it seems
has turned into an objection
a commodity to be cataloged, and sold out
And out dated the now all ready
And I'm not,
a thing to be owned or discarded.
And the humanities of this matter,
the soft, reaching hands of understanding, my feet and speak about daisies making me feel
feel thinner, stretched, excuse me,
less than the weight of the tangible.
Less and less, perhaps, maps less
than any of these smooth surfaces,
this ease of content ness more meaning
that settles over everything like a film.
There's a lot of that, I heard you seen
These actions speaking about the questions
easy answers,
that drowns out the difficult objectives
Though lots of matter still exists,
heavy and unavoidable, just ,there
but it's all in the means now, the necessary
transaction, sum, think for your mind so hear the message being delivered.
Oh, does it matter any more,
these old-fashioned magjectivities,
the complicated aims— of unnecessary pussy pullers maze me.
A
Mazes me, you, and I,
caught in the shifting patterns, undeniably as
if this is what it has become,
us, now, detached from any core matter. Of this one a only time
Now a drifting,
a question mark left hanging ,that is who is
in the air where decisions used faith within
Listen
(does it matter anymore? )
Same thing next day
Hurry up and die for your dollar
Perhaps the only matter left
is the space between the words,
Wealthy arrogance
Of ignorance,
the silence where weused to search,
the quiet acknowledgment of the wise
that the memory has vanished.
Speaketh not now
And (that, too), might not matter,
in the grand tally of things that simply are,
or are not,
anymore.
Question in error,
Possiblity not
Giving thanks to his, who is amongst manys of things grace of our
What does it mean( pointing to the tree)
1779
