STATIONARY TOURIST

at birth, a baby knows it’s everything
the lips, the nipple, the milk, the poop
the shifting changes beyond reach
awaken virgin curiosity
about the rest of itself
the joys of tasting toes
smearing shit on the crib slats
bring giggle bubbles of happiness
while the pains of falling
and withheld affection
bring blubbering wedges of sobs
fragmenting the oneness
into the parts that keep the love
and face another day
amongst growing otherness

a period of experimenting
with why and what to be
from whom to seek acceptance
while being shown the lines
of sanity, propriety,
allegiance and success
begins to wind the toy
makes a man of a boy
stacking boxes over here
dreams of sailing over there
grindstone disfiguring the head
‘til nothing touches any more


who sees through my eyes?
who am i, looking through these eyes?
whence this quiet, staggering love
at getting a wordless smiling nod?
these chuckles of sadness
these tears of joy
what recognizes the oneness of its parts?
the question goes within
to the center of each
to see through the eyes of all
where the quest takes curiosity
a'sampling scales of time and space
atoms are great galaxies
and light years, nanoseconds
eternal mobius loop this universe
always in the middle
here now
endlessly observing
ceaseless change

a long way to go to realize
the baby was right
thinking i had to say so
all the while.

i must be going to seed