Poem: an ode to my ignorance

Because we took acid, we know our heads are echoing caverns and
deserts where not much lives, and our thoughts are hard-scrapple survivors of drought, but
so what?
Although I know like Socrates and Peter Tork
that I know nothing, knowing
that, I got arrogant, so let me remember all the things I don’t know.
Which are immense.

I don’t know how a car works, or quantum physics,
or even really electricity.


I do not understand precisely what the liver does or how it
does it, I don’t know
what happened at the end of Friends or
who the prime minister of Algeria is
or what kind of government they have there.
If the map were unlabelled,
there are many countries I could not point to
with confidence, among them
I do not know how to make toothpaste.

Ok, well maybe I could NOW

It is humbling to realize that I could sit here and list the things I don’t know

all day and all night and I would never run out

of things that I don’t know, not ever,
still there is another shadow list of things I don’t
even know I don’t know,
things that could be known but are not
known to be known by me.

I read recently that some numbers are not computable, that they thought at one point that all numbers were computable,
but now they “know” that the vast majority are not.
I haven’t got the foggiest idea what that means.

But it seems to mean that stretching underneath everything we can see is a vast world we can’t, in much the same way that a butterfly will never understand France, though it
might live there its whole short life. Physicists,
I understand, think now that maybe
we are all holograms, that we are vibrating lines that got excited and began to project themselves into a new dimension,
which just goes to show that scientists today get all the good drugs,

I think Jane Lynch said that in The Mighty Wind, too.

but leaves me with
a whistling ignorance so vast it has no name.

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