If you were a genius, what sort of
genius would you be?
Would you be a Mozartian prodigy of weird and
youthfully wonderful powers?
Would you be a progressively deconstructing Picasso, with
superior symmetry and beautiful line,
and astonishing breakage as time went on?
Or would you learn from the web of g[e]ni[us] around
Would you be the kind of genius any and all of us
connected to the net can work out
how to be:
And can’t you now see how this is possible?
Can’t you now see that it’s true?
The web, what it teaches, what we
learn unbound, is first to understand by
deconstructing ground; by invading
the territory another covets as their own; by
breaking up the elites that
dominate through woe.
But then what the web, and its instincts to
community, lead almost all those thinking
peeps to think and wonder and
usefully conclude is that after deconstruction –
in a way Picasso never! – and using the
learning that only breaking can bring
we begin slow but sure to pull back together
the windy open-
d expanses of
chilly endeavour, until they do warm our
muscles of cellular grey; until we do truly
discover the love that is out of
the way of the normal life led by the head
not the heart: firing on
eight cylinders like
bullet sped quiveringly:
a sheer lifetime and more of so very much
genius: connected and seething
and hoping and breathing
and teaching and learning from the
wisdom of bytes.
(And I remember the way you’d bite me so
fine – and is it right for me to mention
it right now,
or is it not?
And must I deign to say,
Must I pretend I ain’t
The genius we all do express is the
collective genius of
the all we are: and if anything will save this
it will be this all of the collective
where the individual is prime;
where you and I are mine to hold and share
and be as bold as bold, and love is first
and only then will money men
we – all of us – will need one day.