(Dedicated to Richard Wilmarth)
And what we see is not our own existence, but
earth rotating beneath us.
Visible and expressible shift
massless mind line
and rotational air fall
displacement forms relief spacializes river
outside of doubtful
frontiers and captures a
chain serpent of
philosophies this acceleration is a parabolic
And in every foot-fall nothing changes
this becomes this again.
Collision course with a sycamore tree and a
cup of green tea
near the Trident coffee house.
Sweep down workless blue.
Divide moments of unmeasured monotony and know
is a serpent: a strange element stuck in hermetic
We come out of light and return to light,
with some tiny bit of experience meshed in
at some point there is no movement. At some
point, time stops.
Break down and reflect, receptive moon rule.
Grains link nights and our sleep becomes a
protection from life's nightmares.
Snow meals. Tooth meals and the evening room
For good luck, a candle's flame floats in a
window nearby and
a bed's white sheet covers a ragged mountain.
The transparency of the void to come
is a party
held under a blue
tent of sky.
When we fade, we wonder what our thoughts
been . . .
but what happens,
is that we give them to someone else.
Sometimes our minds begin to sound
like a piece of cracked porcelain
when tapped by a fingertip.
as ideas float
a sequence of events,
only possible in eternity.