“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
Is the most frustrating question.
“DO YOU? ... UNDERSTAND?”
Compresses our relation to a
lesson.
Of course! I! don't
understand
what you mean and where your head
is;
I live in first-person limited,
and I'll die here, and I regret
this.
“I THINK SO?” is all, in
truth,
I could ever presume to tell you.
“I THINK I GET YOU?” even
this is straining past my purview:
I've never worn an elephant's head
nor cried, through a martyr's blood,
forgiveness.
Never lived in a starfish's absence-of-
mind, nor an earthworm's body,
limbless.
And I've definitely never taken
due time
to study what-all makes you angry;
the habitual world that frustrates you,
the sense that you've made, that you
hand me:
“ARE YOU SAYING THAT ...(I
must
shout back, to make sure I'm not
overreaching)...
YOU'RE FEELING SMALL,
AND SOMEWHAT
LOST, AND SO YOU
SCREAM YOUR TEACHINGS?”
