prose poem notation

it's too late
the edge of the doomsday clock
has edged non-comically past midnight
but the truth persists
in black extra dimensional horror of fear
that our weapons came from the ages of anxiety and intemperance with each other
so i instead am trying furiously like a Frenchman
to write down some of the good things that enveloped us
like love,
that was pretty good for awhile
yeah, you too
and lack of fear
with all those star-like lights
jazz on hot Tuesday afternoons
being alone sometimes
being together sometimes
doing and observing things
without being a gross pedant
but god
how i loved to make fun of the snobbish technorati
with their plate glass touch screens and ventures into failed artificial intelligence
amid contraptions that hadn't been reasoned with logically or philosophically
like a waterproof smart watch that is capable of calling your whole family
while you are in the shower
but go slower please, reader and listener
in case we are at an end or the end
what did you like here?
her, desserts, wine?
too many variants of some particular sense of humor
that wormed its way infectiously into your mind
until it became an old saw,
those fat faced friends who you could shake hands with,
board games?
sticks, bones of yew, antique work benches, the color blue over the Mediterranean?

none of us should leave for death or ends
at least not until we've decidedly sorted
the good things from the bad things
until we can place designations on people too
for their affinities to the afformentioned assortments.
for instance, it seems like a good if not overly stuffy thing
to have a shelf on a bookcase filled with Russian poetry
but bad to be nebulous about certain fascist British poets
some of whom remained famous after writing propaganda for the WWII Axis,
meaning Ezra Pound
and his dark friend Eliot who supported his early ventures
but whatever right now
because those are not common bad things.
do the sour things of this world make the good things harder to name?
do race riots detract from the visage of the constellation Virgo
or does Virgo herself as a figure of justice in the night sky
compel the abatement of ugliness in racial struggles
to the point of bravery and equality winning?
there are questions like these unfortunately
that are tougher than calculus
so I let the dull chemistry of tap water from the sink
run into a tarnished stainless steel pot filled with the last rice I possess
while I try to admire the concept of objects shining
if you get what I mean,
and if not,
that is fine too.

where are the great libraries
filled with value notations in circumspect
on the moral horror of a spear used on men
or even questioning just why something so primitive as the spear should exist
because men are often driven by objects as masters
etc etc
to the point of being some sort of particular weirdo
and is it valuable
to be a particular weirdo
or not
especially in the instances of dangerous spears
and the prospects of horrible future battles?
maybe we need a cautious library
that would survive the end of notation.

i don't know
what i have written here
is not that good
so throw it out
unless you like it please
the rice is done
music still hangs in the air
a kiss for the moon
and a smile for tomorrow's sun
as we prove the clocks wrong time and time again.