language is not a matter of knowing the words

language is not a matter of knowing
the words to speak, but rather a
comprehension of thoughts left unspoken
for no writ nor vocal manifestation could ever
replace the origin let crawl from
mind through splitting time and chance
in given circumstance.– that which may never find
another route, if not through that subtle genius,
Epiphany, may fall as leaf to be but
nut on ground beneath the tree
unseen, unfound, for who notices
the bearer until the given is believed profound.

this life is but

as a tree
   as a voiced cricket
      as a splattering rain
         as a twist-turbined fan
            as a direction-uncompassed gnat
               as a bulb let slown to sight
                  this life is but a branching plenty
                                      a branching plenty to the still’d & hungry leaves
                                     a breaking call unrepeated in constant
                                      a breaking call unrepeated in constance
                                     a falling raised
                                      a falling raised
                                     a mutterance mumbling incoherently
                                      a mutterance mumbling with incoherence
                                     a changer of path
                                      a changing of path
                                     too fast to comprehend its speed and brevity
                                      too unknown in speed to comprehend its brevity

originally designed with the first ‘a’ only, but both seemed so appropriate.
perhaps better read with ‘as’ repeated twice, once with the first ‘a’ and then with the indented ‘a’.

the muse vs inspiration

a muse is someone/something that cannot disappoint,
merely disinterest.
emotion is not wasted on the muse, merely displaced for a bit.

Nature will never be delegated to status of “muse,” for Nature is a permanent-inspiration. the muse may wax and wane, but it is not the permanent moon, just a moth you notice in the light.

those who inspire: Mom, E, Katie, dad, Grandma, family, Sarah : they are permanent in thought; they are me in some odd linking.

the muse is but a flash, while those who inspire :including Nature: are the light. the muse may linger, but lingering is not comparable in force to motivation.

you may say the muse is but a parasite, a hinderance, an obstacle of inspiration–
i prefer to call the muse “practice.”

Sorry.

Apparently, someone I had let access my FTP decided to send massive amounts of e-mail to AOL users, with a link to a virus, ” Hallmark.scr “. I have removed said user’s access and the virus. I sincerely apologize to anyone who has received unsolicited e-mails from this individual and would request your forgiveness.

In short, sorry I was a fuck-up by letting some child use my server.