“Sweet Love of youth, forgive, if I forget thee, / While the world’s tide is bearing me along; / Other desires and other hopes beset me, / Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong!” Emily Brontë
there's no time to explain there's no
dazzle in order to wrestle among its
ants ants ants ants ants ants ants ants ants
to say not better in the christian sense
the jain sits under a tree in order to wrestle
among its ants ants ants
crawl up his perfect warmth even if
i feel no such warmth for the gourmand
for the essentialist for the part of me which insists upon
treating others with respect
as productive as an ant productive
this is the earth's horizon —
handsy in control touchy-feely frightening
the jain it is being in its essential parthood
i insist upon treating others with respect
as productive as a thing being only eyes the thing
even if i or it feel no such warmth for this eye
i feel no such warmth for the same tree
or ant in order to wrestle among
among its ants ants ants ants
wikipoem.org 
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