How we wonder, standing, sitting
even dancing on Earth—
about our place, why, and who we are.
I think we’re moving pretty fast,
words chosen almost arbitrary
to describe the true Tao which cannot
be spoken, Borges admonishing the
effort getting paid to write them…
Law writes down what philosophically
or by a vote seems right.
We clap our hands like LeBron James
and the powder flies so high I think
it reaches the stars;
I am awake by word definitions, but
primarily through five senses un-named.
Mom is pleasant but is not a person;
she defines love as I chase LeBron’s
powder off the screen and out my door,
up above the clouds in that dream where
you can fly.
Mom has them, too!
I dream of heat, think Earth is Star-like
in a wind so powerful all is upheld
in Einstein’s space fabric, the listening-
challenged harping on Newton’s
laws and limits saying that’s where most
of the work gets done.
Then Lao Tzu busts in cavalier and sharp
pushing away accolades like Bill Wilson
of AA, everybody vulnerable to the right
punch in the gut, usually coming from
attractive female advance—
the sperm must swim somewhere,
so why not with me on LeBron’s star
so far away until the lava bursts
and all around me is a dance of death—
rebirth to flowers on the mountainside
after the lightning strikes.
So chargy is life, dancing on a star!