Optomotor

I’m watching a creature who watches a screen

a watchman who watches and knows what he’ll mean

when they ask and he tells, and he tells and they ask

about purpose that’s pickled in each daily task

And the music of quicksand like metal will melt

when the crucibles bellow the furies they felt 

They say it’s for knowledge, but knowing is cheap

I can know the whole world if I get enough sleep

A moron can learn all past works of the dead

and still in the present have shit in his head

To understand anything is to understand less

so damn all deductions and let’s make a guess

or profess our stupidity, straight and sincere

find clarity clearly in all that’s unclear

So, do I believe this? Eh, I don’t know

It could be that today is especially slow

I oft throw off caution and except what I mean

when I’m watching a creature who’s watching a screen

© James Cole, 2019