Legos Logos

Updated: Sep 19, 2020

When you can smell what you hear

And taste what you see

You are either on the other side

Of sanity, or insanely profound.

I just made that up.

With words.

Having no idea

How or if an idea

Would come out.

What it meant.

If anything at all.

Now I know

How my Grandson feels

Building his world

Out of LEGOs,

The modern world’s LOGOS,

Knowing that all the pieces

Should fit together,

That the puzzle is the design

The design puzzling,

Because they rarely do

Especially since the pile

From which he chooses

Contains a multitude 

Of separate sets 

Containing a multitude 

Of unique pieces

Whose intent and purpose 

Becomes seemingly unrecognizable 

Within the immense mound

Spilled out upon the floor.

 A metaphor for life you say?  

Perhaps metaphorically

A definition of America?  

Definitely definitive.

There’s a reason “educated people”

Become eugenically tendentious

As they grow old within,

Without the charm of youth

To hide the nascent racism

Residing in all of us

Regardless of race, creed or color.

It’s the hereditary material

Binding us apart,

Uniting us in division,

A genome that informs the form

Of our nuclei, the very cell

Of our all’s all,

The mansion of our birth,

The mausoleum of our death.

We all quest for Light’s purity,

Seeking it in homogeneity 

Rather than creation’s grand diversity

Which we avoid since it always evades

Always eludes our cloyful graspings,

Since it can never be held,

Only if you are open to the NOW

To the potential lurking 

In every moment of time,

You may be able to smell what you hear 

And taste what you see

Through patiently scavenging 

The mounds’ multitudinousness,

Seeing the particular

Within the vastness

And the vastness

Within the particular.


5 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Breath’s Breadth

When I was younger, before my daughters, From many cups I literally sipped, Figuratively testing thought’s waters With my big toe, claiming I fully dipped. Years later, this facile habit of mind, Igno

My Sole Desire

The desire for desirelessness Is the very essence of desire, Wanting that which is sorely wanting, That which is purely an ideal In place of a cigarette, a cup Or two of Joe, a glass, or three, of win

Sensation’s Pause

The plenitude of the similitude Gives me pause as I gaze at the children Gathered in a yard, miniature adults Playing with materials of their age. Slides, swings, hoola-hoops, bats, balls and cycles,