— Like the morning sun you come
And like the wind you go —

I never tried too hard at scholarship:
it seemed a pursuit for those in suits:
pedants, careerists, autodidacts, of all sorts,
accumulators of facts, the stay-at-homers,
the dog-with-a-boners, worrying the hell
out of themselves and acquiring prestige.
i preferred to confront the vast unknown —
that which is so hard to wrap words around -
that which eludes: sight, smell, touch, taste
and sound: that which makes the world go
round and raises the dead and colours leaves
the exact shades of autumn sunshine, esoteric
meanderings, thought that runs into an ox-bow
lake, cavemen’s psilocybe infused worship of 
the dead. All that’s left unsaid. 

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