from ten meters it’s a wild garden
from one a pond of lights
the shift in perspective
was less a crossfade
and more a smooth
set change
like
a large orderly
crowd dispersing
metal shavings
finding their place
in a magnet’s field
over time the world grows small
when you’re choosing in the dark
choose carefully
evolution
is basically
building
sandcastles
with a spirit focused on texture
a surface reaching tension
a state of space just lost in despair
becomes aware
a young man doing pullups
on the scaffolding
huffs
over time
i’ve felt different
but not over space
they bump and crawl like
so many these days
inch and inch and
occupy and wait
furrowed brows in the crowd
create desire paths
when followed
through gifted wakes
even though someone else having
experienced just this is impossible,
it’s hard to keep this knowledge
at the foreground of every moment
and every moment is only remembered
as a way to segment the whole
so memories are only photographs
but don’t let the fact that they’re not real
make them appear any less impressive
see, these things can be useful.
so GO with it. be afraid but don’t write about it so much.
let yourself see it in the exhausted trees,
who cannot enjoy the moment
and know the end is coming soon …
they’re over the hump, cresting the solstice, etc.
they’d like some more water – maybe?
but their green has lots and lots of food
how thick are those trunks really
the long version:
the things that happen in stairwells,
hearing music from a loft.
that party where EC found that money
and bought those winterboots.
the stairwells at the music building
each with their own pot smoking landing
all those times looking up
so many doors to open
it’s not a mature state of being. it’s very fearful,
the first few days after the molt. you can go back
in time for these. remember the passion which with you
would have defended your fresh skin at twenty
in basements, now a tall proud parent in basements no more
Sunshine and Wind 