you don't realize what you don't know

[sweetwater]

well in the act of moving on
to better things

a more complete experience
of being and becoming

a walk in the snow that has arrived
to create winter and

much to my surprise the cold air
and wind and slippery walkways
into the suburban urban urbane

the tree is something to move out of the way
to create the super highway

the black hole super non theory

of an imposed perceptual reality

...

the mind is the tree perceiving the mind

...

today's realization
that one is suffering from the urbane
even to say the 'educated' class
of imposing virtue

...

suffering in itself from an education
as much as suffering from the education

and the irony of it all
is that you have to pay for it

...

leaving what could be referred to as
automobile payments on the super toll highway
or the investment portfolio of a condo slum

slum lords move in next door
and extort their income from inaccountable means

selling pitiful representations of society and state
wanting to avoid the taxation guru

wanting to beat the system

...

the urbane jungle the seeming paradox
of frustrated persons grocery shopping
at food banks

the addiction centre next door to the food stalls
of donated contributions

it's people who have to pay and fix the problems
that other people create

the tree never did anything to anyone
but give us breath

[dadio]

The bounds are knowledge are what we don't know or have forgotten. Is this the best of all possible worlds as Leibnitz would have had us believe? Who knows or cares? I love the poem, though, unfolding like a scholar's toga.