Cornwall Sandwich Sans The Ham
Apologia and is there a need for it? This indeed has been on my mind for a very
long time. The past and its’ dead
cousins, and how far back must we go, to save the very things we hope to impart
to our children and those beyond? A
confession in minority form has me suggesting, curiosity pushes me backward,
and apologia as I must say, “ I carry
much guilt.” Guilty of being born in
America, where the slate has been erased and blank-page white is what I was
born with.
Then came world war and more
destruction of the places and things once important, became the dust of empire
once polished over by a new hand. Is now
invisible to me and most of the world. Simply stated, I inherited a world that
rushes forward without consideration of all that will be lost or has already
suffered such fate. For that condition,
and for reasons unknown, I carry much
guilt. Apologia and it comes down to
this. It is missing and not in me.
For this I carry much guilt, but
then say: “Little I can do now, as I am impoverished
by the wrath of time and displacement and the silence within stone, now
pulverized and cast to scattered shores by winds I cannot name. Such force has taken so much from me. Apologia is but a starting place to restore
that which has been taken, even before birth.
My existence is but a history of
abundance, and as a rule of thumb, could be described and punctuated as that
which has its final resting place in the city dump. Won’t dwell on that, and is what I was taught
to do. Move on.
Change and decay rests on the foundation
of bedrock. Is where I start my process
of discovery. Where I gather myself and
seek redemption. Seek evidence that I am
but part of the greater composition, and that pardon for what has been done, begins
with Apologia. Residue of guilt can now
be deposited and recorded and then left in stone. Move on.
You know me by the marks on my
skin, all superficial and surface representation of what you might think is
there. But wait, there is more. What you can’t see survives what your mind is
incapable of. Valuable supplement to the
command and control of human mind, is
something greater than the evidence available for now. Show and tell and one must know and remember,
but can’t.
First-hand knowledge and this is to
be dismissed, as we will be replaced and much will be lost to the next hand
dealt and played. This we know. It is not the first time Cornwall Sandwich sans the ham has been served. Even so, for the rest which remains
unexplained and repositioned as pinions below sky, there is yawn and vast
blank. Hence, whiteboard and clean
slate, forcing us just one option of my generation. Move on.
Apologia complete. Great confusion rains down upon a sea that
blocks my passage. More than a great
divide, is destiny without borders as we collide with stars and make our way
into another dimension and universal order.
Chaos is our fulfillment. For a
long time he thought there was so much more.
Now indifferent, is as if truth is yet the crusts of earth, already
lived and now replaced by theory and possibility, beyond physical fact. Beyond verification and name, I will rest and
then do as others have done. Move on.
Cornwall Sandwich Sans The Ham, I
leave to you.
Thanks. Love the final poem.
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