I am not ever a known
(that’s a whole lot of exploring
and exposing to agitate) and
while some visibility might suit me
it really is a distraction
to seek to be known
I am not even a known
my ideas are not clever
my words not particularly
special, though a sentiment
climbs out the basement
and someone somewhere claims;
hey, that’s my shadow!
I am not ever a known
even when a seed of me
can be harvested in your life
like a random affirmation
of good timing
even then when you think you
know me, it is only because it is you
you see
I am not even a known
my quality and form are shaped
like yours, two eyes, a nose
a mouth, words of an English
sound between two lips like any
and it is only because a blue print
‘worked like magic’ that an alien
can appear not so dissimilar
I am not ever a known
and you would injure me
if you said you knew me
inside out
because then I would have to substitute
that into my being
wearing an idea that I thought sounded pleasing
