the daily listing a mere enumeration tree plus tree plus tree
art reveals nothing. it's not projection, instead: an alternate self
the water is still but a dull dog is barking some bird gave notice
The types of darkness are manifold: firstly, before the big bang's boom; secondly, the night's blackness; thirdly, shadows of doubt; also, underground; next, when dying; there's holes, too; and caves; last...
day comes in fragments leaking out of the spaces in the atmosphere
the fog over there fraternizes with the shrubs while the sun's hiding
a tree entails a gentle growing a tree elides the sky above a tree betokens time's dull flowing a tree rejects the earth's cold love a tree observes the moon's redundant a tree points out the sun's abundant a tree explores the air's canals a tree will fail to show morale a tree creates its own committees a tree can drink the dreams of clouds a tree provides the beasts their shrouds a tree dislikes the teeming cities a tree neglects its own biology a tree reviews epistemology
clockwork universe: it winds sideways, not forwards: illusory time.
The children argued and spun through the corridors. Outside the sun shone.
omphaloskeptic autobiographical communication
dots on the water ducks floating in formation and diving for snacks
A part of every day just writing: The sky is gray and raindrops hang; How is a life like this exciting? Oh wait, a bird unseen just sang. Unfinished tasks remain regretted; So forests' moods persist, abetted. And still a thought will come along: No fish will come; no time is wrong. Despairing then, perhaps I wondered... Preparing rows of trees or words On paper or on wings of birds- Exactly ten times, by a hundred- Momentous thoughts and aimless streams Suspend what's real. Behold the dreams.
That maze of highways wound around points, demarcating geographies and perpetuating myths with a singular goal which is foreordained: to indicate where our deeds become words.
Bits of time slip past unused and unusable: snow on the still beach
some snow on branches give the birds their new topic spring comes, stuttering
birds announce intentions in coded ways that might just reveal eligibility for springtime relationships with other birds known and unknown who might be lurking in nearby trees.
the rain's broad, pattering sounds reverberate, and wind blinds the trees, hiding their deep wounds with grasping earth at roots' ends.
in lines of glass or wood or concrete horizons drawn in golds and blacks a grid, a geographic spreadsheet dead trees on hills like painted cracks the cityscape reveals confusion amid its planless, hot profusion of means of movement, high and low of will to commerce, fast and slow the hearts of people all inventing a way to make their neighbors slaves or if not that, then find their graves and likewise... stepwise... too preventing our nature's hoped-for forceful claim against our blind hubristic shame
The equinox past,
the light lingers, delinquent.
Soon: summer’s solstice.
the future arrives
each day as if coming home
while the past decamps