All the margarine you can eat
won’t save your arteries
from the cold accretion of
habit over time.
Life sets itself in patterns
patterns become afterimages
on the eyelids; on the eyelids
time itself burned on your screen.
(I have the attention span of a two-year-old
can barely maintain a conceit
half-way down the page.)
When children come to me
their snotty noses full of
what they imagine to be education
Knowing the names of the spots on the dice
gives you no better chance at a pass
not a clue how the
subtle muscular energies of the palm
charm the cubes to present sevens
not names for the inevitable
not knick-knack knowledge of
flim-flam terminologies
HANDS ON THE IVORIES
a radiant psychic temperature
the breath of whispered benediction
then a practiced cast
onto the green felt
where knowledge has no control.
