Idiocy

The delight I take in my idiocy is shameful if not

guilt-inducing which it is not: merely a matter of

dealing with shame: I can stand shame more and

more and more, it’s guilt I can’t bear. Idiocy is

the source of originating,  generating a point of view,

true?  A price to pay: sacrificing  the idiotic to the

common sense.  Suffers in translation. To die for.

Not common sense itself,  I acknowledge: how

could it be and still be idiotic?  Potentially, maybe:

crucified idiocy : a  common sense or two —but that

determination is beyond me and my control: I would

have  it all become some  common sense, perfectly

clear and everyone salute it too

The “new” and the “emergent”: where else its source

but in some one or another’s idiosyncrasy  busting

out all over like June bugs slamming my screened-

in porch some early summer night.  Let me in let me

 inn: you lite up my night. No one can think out of

the box who worries about thinking out of the box.

The problem is: how can anyone outside the box

think inn? Breaking per-sonic barriers & distant

early warning systems & all that homeland security

blocking holy terrorists who would boomlay boomlay

be bringing  down the house, yes?