The world is a weighted haunting –
– some complex surround –
to be dreamt and/or measured, and felt
I amended the ‘haunting’ to be –
not the thick and illegible “world,”
but the compulsion of ‘figuring-out’ –
the ‘figuring out,’
an ‘haunting’ is ghost –
and only just happens:
Within which is conceived a convergence –
– event –
(some humanish word for ‘what’s happened’).
This ‘we’ –
what is it?
what part does it play
in the muddle?
And ‘what happens’ –
multiply in the mess –
as you feel it
and think it
and be –
how it wholly
3 thoughts on “How in the world”
Your poem is like a dancer upon the stage. All I can do is sit, watch, admire, applaud.
thank you so much Jean
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