i would like to talk about
a hidden transfer of knowledge
held within specialism
but transferred across specialisms
a poking out, if you will, into the thin open air
natives that talk about native knowledge in a native way
can easily be scorned by a powerful urge or class
they are dumb because their voice is not heard therefore they are dumb.
we of course are dumb if we do not listen
and having listened is it really possible to throw on the brake completely
why not? this is what brakes are for. stopping.
do not fear the screech of brakes, you never start going backwards, which is where the sound is coming from. do not fear the screech of brakes but rather fear not stopping.
the deathly (here we go) drift into smack bang wallop the edge of knowing nothing at all ever again.
the reek of sweat and sex dreams, a cold awakening. washed clean by a splash of hormone from within.
i offer you a fictitiously fabricated reference system on top of a database, small, of interviews. you leap to from where you came, which was an idea or something constructed. i.e., the menu system can only be understood by reading.
the urge to be poetic has to be balanced with intent. i want to; therefore i justify dreaming. a concrete ‘i want’, rallied against a rapturous construction. Both are make believe: the i, which wants, and the i that justifies dreaming.
confessing arrogance, in itself, does not justify the crime. That which does is real humility; knowing that you are equal and therefore the same.
not a single misdeed is not immediately punished therefore be generous and patient.