It Goes Fast

Love songs crackle car speakers, distribute sound and sentiment out the open window, connected sediment of wind blown feelings formed by earthly pressures into stone sinking slowly, silently through the cave cold water of my stomach, a husky seed busrsting in the depths, wild for growth, hungry for light, to create the energy animals long for.

Be here now.

Below the ground swirls like Gutai impasto, elevations impossible to discern, ribboned strata of compressed earth, palimpsest crust of continent containing a layered history of gradient stability, topmost most malleable, but even the bedrock may be moved by monstrous tumult, all this seemingly unshifting mass containing a core of infinite impermanence whose unfamishable hunger for change mocks maps over millenia.

Be here now.

Nothing survives. Even absence dies. Ever transient cloud, ever mobile ocean, ever falling leaf, ever blinking star, whose light still travels but whose source burst before the earth was born - when do you rest? Straining through weaking twilight to reach in humid air for flirtatious blinks, sentenced to death in mason jars despite air holes and all good intentions. In darker hours, memories flicker, poorly edited, on white sheets hung from the willow, and we miss the house burning.

Be here now.

- In the sky