Imagine the greatest thing there is
To be great, it should “be”
If it’s not there, it’s not so great
And that’s ontology
If anything at all is here
There’s “greatest”, sure enough
So Anselm’s right and Kant is wrong
With his Critiques of Stuff
Descartes believed it, Hegel too
Spinoza thought it clear
The greatest thing there is, must be
Or so, it would appear
Much more than I’ve heard music, human voices;
More than the television, or the phone;
And even more than traffic, have I listened
To central heat & air’s familiar drone
A noise that’s traveled with me through a lifetime.
I’ll hear it yet, from my hospital bed:
The soundtrack of my life, in perfect blankness,
The dull white noise that says
I’m not yet dead
We touch them every night
And we spend years and years with them.
They bring us comfort;
Cradle us to sleep —
Just feathers, foam and fabric; but
They seem like so much more;
A part of us, extrinsic,
That we
Keep
I don’t know how the toaster works;
I only know it does —
I know well-toasted bread is great;
It is and always was –
The slightest turn to left or right
Means mishaps, sad and shaming:
Where it will not be toast at all
Or burnt beyond reclaiming
For toasters can be fickle things
Or can be loyal friends;
Like other friendships, on our care
I guess it all depends
So this goes out to toasters
Everywhere, from coast-to-coast —
Just take a piece of bread right now
And raise it up in
Toast
My marketing strategy’s not that great
In naming this bit of verse “Moldy Chair”;
But yet, that’s the photo I’ve chosen, and so,
You all can see what I see there.
Abandoned chair, moldy, with rows on rows
Of flood-damaged houses in Ireland;
A gray sort of dolor hangs in the air,
And out around the bend.
Moldy chair, moldy chair, what a sound.
Tribute to vanity’s filth and shame —
Taking forever our mold with us,
Germ and infection:
Our claim
To fame
I wear socks all the time because
I like to have them on
And I collect them, as some might
Collect Louis Vuitton
I’ve always been this way, its not
Just because I am old
I wear socks all the time because
I don’t like my feet cold
From the other room, he asked
Is that the ‘ABC Song’
or
‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’?
And she said
‘Yes’
Kids (and animals) we view
With the greatest of affection;
But we see them as they aren’t
By some sort of weird
Projection
