I think I know what
I know, but
how do I know
that I know?
or can I?
And this is important
Well, we think we
have things in or
on our minds…?
Do we know all this
stuff or does it come
in the ways
Lots of stuff comes
into us—
but is it all a knowing?
What if all the stuff we think
we know
are just specious conjurings,
just the stuff of
learning and keeping?
What if there’s other stuff…
eternal mysteries?
Like the smell of lilacs, or
The touch of an infant’s cheek, or
The scent of a lover’s shoulder, or
The bristle of a lover’s beard, or
The scent of a coming storm…
Is this knowing?
If it is then we
ought to be able to tell it,
But can we?
After all,
what is it?
