a person is (still)
a possibility
of change.

one day on earth (again)
a kind comedian
or a possibly retired RN
remade me by    scattered      clouds

ever since then
its like i was given
a tiny    floating      pill         (pill)

but dont blame him.
Bognet is also Like
the times. goes out
and in, mudworks
the hardly-forgiven
swallower-set-whole.

of a tiny rubber boot,
of preservation,
of a soul.

but i think they got it right.
That once you hear
and train your ear-
Pore on that Play-
out thats Really
In, that

Saxophone —


it gets you
by the vowels,
by those star-
climbing
Bowels.


    and doesnt ever set
    you down!


//

Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)

for such as these
are the demonstrations (epideiknomai)
of love (eros)

// 233β

τοιαῦτα γὰρ ὁ ἔρως ἐπιδείκνυται

//

to out of my pores by coldscars
and You would be forgiven by Michael Julius

(how could one not
be grateful
to be feasted
with such clouds)

with Aristophanes “The Clouds”
“The Saxophone Song” by Kate Bush

Black Lives
Black Thought
Black Music

and of Socrates lore
from Plato’s “Symposium”
when the beloveds ridiculous

body sits beside
in conversation with
the comic poet

//

🌘