Poetry

Poetry

By dan ankers

Poetry writes for the sake of itself

My mind has found lately, some peace in little else

Some pictures of loved ones and cute things I’ve seen

But nothing can shake me, this flaw in my being

My fingers find words of description to please

My brain is attached so it follows in threes

My conscious mind sits and reads what they say

The moment and the unconscious drivel, working together, interplay

My conscious mind, temporal, I lay him to the side

Or it, for that matter, for there is no sex in the mind

Tis all one great web, like a fungus which speaks, to every inch of itself

My conscious mind reaps

And confounded by every conceptual meaning

It knows and it knows not

And it knows the third meaning

It hangs there

Knowing

And somewhere...among all of that...there are connections to

Testicles and the like

But none of that is really me

Androgynous reality

Can you dig?

I know there are few who can

And to see this place

And to go there for long

To analyze the world without

Respect to gender or agenda

Is to see what we must do

And who we all really are

But it is something

That must be done

If the world

Is to survive

An angel’s view

We must imbibe

And not to spoil, our friendly toil

And not to uncreate our sexy state

Merely to balance and to coevolve our beings

This meaning into everything

We must be weaving