I’m listening to and watching me think

On thoughts of elders-philosophers-friends

It’s something like what I might eat or drink

At least til what doctors say are the ends

 

prefer cooking, setting my fire knobs

not blaming the lost ones caught in the gears

As it heats and bubbles to surprise blobs

Each pot a spirit level for quake fears

 

Sometimes in need or want for busy-ness

I’ll go out but even though I’m hungry

I’ll leave from bad smell and uncleanliness

I’ll just keep trying to stay unhangry

 

consuming and excreting what I’ve learned

shitting all over this ego I’ve earned