In Comprehensible Poetry
My papers were indecipherable
By awe
But God
Speaking clearly
You have no ID
How easy this is fore me
To recognize my own son
As like wise pure of art sea me
Rolling long
Even without papers
Burned by mirror mortals
This is some good shit
This poem alludes to one of my favorite quotes in one of my favorite movies, Good Will Hunting, where the young uber-genius says to the standard genius: “Do you have any idea how easy this is for me.” The poem also is a tip of the hat to the sermon on the mount’s “the pure of heart will see God.” Lastly, in case you were wondering what I might be smoking, my poetry, mystical ink, exists “off the books,” often neither formally published nor even on a written page. For the record, I am profoundly sober — high on life. Awe of this is tied together with the ID of “no papers,” foremostly as an illegal in this worldly realm, and lastly as smoking some good shit even without papers.
