I WRITE IN IGNORANCE

150. I WRITE IN IGNORANCE:

Nonetheless I write in ignorance just as so many live in ignorance - that’s just the way things are - but I feel heavy and solid and frozen in place to the extent that it’s sometimes impossible to get an engine going : the brain breaks down the wires cross the sparks collapse the energy and everything short-circuits as nothing works and the only puff of smoke produced is from the waste of whatever just transpired - the cities I see are still lit all night and the electronic grid of things remains – coolant circulating heat pumps pushing lit rays everywhere and if that city ever went out there’d be a Hell to pay and I wonder sometimes about the day I’ll die – will it linger will it pass quickly be pain-free be confusion-filled be noisy or quiet or sensible or weird and uppermost in my thoughts is ‘where will I be’ and what will I be thinking then ? these are probably hideous questions but things which arise within the matter of time the luxury of which I guess I now do have – but for how much longer I do not know : and the medical callouses which grow over time are already starting the ubiquitous passages the pains and the hurts the clots and the tumors therein and just like the city filled with energy and the fused-circuiting of all that wild internal power too it all – over its time – diminishes and I see it pass : not with pleasure but a certain pain : I ask ‘where shall I go?’ and ‘how shall I get there?’ and am answered with nothing but the swerving silence and the muted voice of a spirit which says simply ‘continue on’ and that I must accept.