We've Understood Nothing

We've understood nothing,
virtually nothing,
the brightest things in our experience,
the stars,
are barely seen
and what has been thought?
what has been dreamed?:
a whisper
a scribble;
the book is unwritten,
the fires unrealized,
zeal is undaunting,
and love unexplored;
our techna
our logos:
are mere wind-chimes
overpowered by hurricanes of potentiality
as the possibilities to move
to make
and be moral
like:
love at first sight
a propensity to learn
and embarrassing acts of generosity
are confounded by notions of normalcy:
conformity to the majority;
at the center of this
school is so often
both prostitute and priest
exhorting and seducing us to accept
a kind of creative infancy,
an in-the-box
agreeable sense of inquiry,
a frighteningly narrow
definition of self-conscious intelligence;
yet aside from this pomp:
-these priggish mumblings of progress-
we've understood nothing,
virtually nothing.

Everything is Music

I woke up this morning and plugged my ears into their headphones:
It was bliss man,
just listening to music before class:
"Hello, I'm Johnny Cash";
I noticed I was different, I wanted to run...so I did -I like running-
I jumped up on a cement wall and ran like heaven
and all these words just started hitting me,
stuff that I'm sure, no one had ever thought of
and would probably make me a millionaire or something
-it was amazing-
malfortunately, I forgot what the words were, but they were amazing!
(you'll have to trust me),
one thing I do remember thinking was that music,
music is everything and everything is music
and sure there is dissonance; disharmony, but it's all a song:
trees, atoms, stars, sex, Led Zeppelin, neural synapses, breath, sidewalk chalk, day dreams
and this unending sentence I am now writing
and creativity -even grammarians-
are all part of a larger narrative, a meta-narrative:
conduits of a single river; notes in the song of existence:
thinking this way made me dance,
which I think is pretty natural when the whole world is singing: