seeking truth, 2013

Looking at a map of Los Angeles, trying to figure out how to get there from here. Recognising the obvious metaphor and following it around the room..


would I know the truth
if it came up and kicked me in the shins?
would the sorrow of a stranger
only remind me of my anger
today its summer for some natural reason
the rest of nature in the usual struggle
for warmth and resources
the map doesn't represent truth
it allows for motion its features
change as they change the infrastructure
I'm pretty sure my truth is a struggle
with my vanity my innate ability
to screw things up but the question remains
would I know the truth
if it kicked me in my ass?

I asked my friends for help
but they often knew even less then me
& the ones who tried to say truthfully
framed their words like an engineer
cutting the problem down to a single vision
a blueprint of existence, taken room
by room, each truth made individual
I see the bridge collapsing here
me on it

is this ignorance perceived is it desired
am I locked in this box by a magician friend
would you return my email
have you fallen down and can you see
the suicide note left in the freezer
so many failures of the man
taking the wrong road the battered highway
walking into the wrong room loving
the lost boy holding out hope to the anonymous

not to say I won't keep looking
perhaps that is the only truth available
in this indeterminate state someone
thank heisenberg for me perhaps the truth
is in an unopened box and we are meant
to never know it for sure
it's not exactly a joke more like a grace
given to us by the Great Lady