wake up, again.
must work, again.
must live, again.
need food, again.
no sleep, again.
stresses. the wounding of being in this day. body aches. shoulders, back and neck are stiff but the sun needs your activity while it hangs on a cloud in the sky. on an unplanned day, the moon kills time slowly; just sweeping the stars away at a patient pace. turning, cycle, sphere. lonely planet. black space vacuum take me home. my vision backs out of my body, shapes transform to sketch and colors lean into each other.
cartoon world arresting this moment, again.
this black tie, and shirt, and pants, and shoes are too tight. i’m finding something new to complain about every year. government. religion. same old shit i’ve always fought with.
but then it’s okay, for some reason. sehnsucht gripping me every step, in every direction. it’s different. it’s okay. it’s alright. i’m alright, for now.
that insect was just living and now it’s dead. we die? one day there won’t be any more days for us. no one knows where to go after the brain has been drained of blood, electric signals through tissue under the skin and cells decay into the earth. i feel too real sometimes. is this my life? is this really my body? i am contained. how everything came to be, i’ll never know and it’s of not much use to anyone but where is it going? time passes away but stays in it’s place, it’s the clock that keeps ticking. where does all the time go that we’ve spent? into white holes or a city unkempt, housing ghosts and dust and stale liquor.
but then, again, a new realization gifts my soul just as it begins to tear into that chaotic cloth of spinning thought where nothing makes any sense. the cycle seems complete, something still missing but it doesn’t matter. i’m watching the fractal nature of the universe from a comforting platform. ah, yes. i remember now. the truth i’ve known that exists in all…
(as i begin to finish this thought)
there, upon a long hill of tangerine colored wheat, like feathers from a fowl, these grains sway in the twilight. the leaves of a half-dead cypress wander around the broken soil, carried by a current and lay on its waves. the stars blink, some are of a more serious face that never move, and an amber aurora sleeps under the clouds. the wooden panels on homes of stone and brick, echo the sounds of little animals who cannot find any rest in the forest or the field.
(my mind races to distant memories)
do you remember the days where everything was new? in the car when side streets would slip right past our reading? i’m pretty sure we were so curious and anxious to touch every object around.
(flash back to the current moment)
i find myself caught in a lightning blue haze of reflected light off the snow on this late night. orion rests to the left of our moon. a fair gust rustles about in the leaves not far from me followed by a passing car. the headlights beamed down the tall road in search of me. alone though and excited, i am.
(break into another moment of insanity)