Ins and Outs of the Familiar

Knowing doesn’t make it so.
Knowing it makes it hollow.
Knowing sixty years is how many
moons no one cares or cranes to see
makes a boy dull as the arthritis
of his writhing knees. A painter scalped
and bloodied, that old bare cockney
lamp would have him stroke it,
but knowing it and seeing it
have the whole of distance in between.
Living is not the same as keeping.
Let’s not speak of the sun
when it is ever busy sleeping.
Living never knew once of speaking
in the kingdom of the animals
who, point of fact, have no sanity to lose,
so busy they are sleeping without waking
though their mouths exhaust to move.
They slouched, figured in upsy daisy
or that the moon is under them
like a woman caught and kept under
the city of her man, staring out.

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~ by Jeremy on December 26, 2011.

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