What [ let’s don’t


who ] do

you trust?

And is it

[ let’s leave

alone    if you please

the question

of who

altogether ] is it



you right now?


Not what idea do you trust I mean a thing [ let’s even

disallow your fallback  gossamerity

that ghostly cobwebness

you’ve tolerated   too

long   in your mind ]

let’s say that

a thing   in order to count

as thing   must fall

if you let it go—

or sink if cast away      even if

it may surface   sometime again

like a bone-flake snowfall

like that gossamerity that noose like a weightless twisted body

like truth in dreams


listing now the dangers

of looking

the other way [ let’s say looking

           but not seeing ]

while [ and here

we’d pause and detail exactly how ]

tolerance becomes romance—

. . . a kind of trance state, an American . . .disposition that operates

            outside historical markers; it favors staring over blinking.

—meaning while that thing that you call a thing

in your mind    as if

[ and here we’d walk—trace

anyway, possibly

take the M 60 to the airport?—the route

from here to there ]


as if your mind were tethered   [ even by stretched-thin

            gossamerity ]

to your life

your life to an actuality            one you trust

[ delusion alert : it’s not ]

meaning while you let go that thing

you call a thing

and that thing it just hovers there    manifestly   unthingingly   in mind


in that space you now know

is mind

that thing you know now

is no thing

mind is

you thing now that know


so no not that not thing no   I mean a thing you know

by texture        trust by touch

no not fingers

[ ok, now let’s only allow things to be things if you trust


by tongue by press by salt and

solution ]   and so you may know who you are

by the taste-shape

of the letter   even if approximate

by the shape you assume          [ when I ask

you what I’m not

ever supposed to ask you ]

when you’re alone

like you

imagine you are


now when your tongue pulls you down   again   to go there