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My dear goto

Don’t bury your tools.”
    ~ Leo Brodie, Thinking Forth (1984)

O most maligned (for anal reasons)
Of analysts’ banes
O alleged provender of procedural chaos
O four-letter word of illest repute
You’ve gotten me out of many a fix
Fixed many a phony feature
With an inspired leap
Sure policy’s fine
Orderly proper square
Ever cumulative
Amassed into a sticky plateful
Of forgotten objects
And lest they too forget
How to reach each other
Even as friends
Speculate no more
Clear out of that Gordian knot
With a thumb to the nose
Who knows who derides
You remind me of someone
No fire & brimstone preacher
No drill sarge
No snaky attorney
No fool or magician
Is nearly stuck in mud
As the technocrat
Who cringes at your name
Even while compiling a tangle
Of his or her own lack
Of intuition
Into billions of basic blocks
Each delineated by euphemistic branches
That instruct
No magic
Is taken away
When you let us know
Where we belong
Why fear the next step
When we can go anywhere
What a trip
Let’s do it together
Goto right here
Be with me this moment
Goto right there
And escape from it all
Goto the vision
The imagination
Goto the ending
Of this mortal world
Goto the water
To seek absolution
Goto the mountain
See much from the height
Goto the garden
With all its potential
Goto the cradle
Relearn all that’s known
Goto the top of this page
And continue from there

Thanks always returns

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