I stand before the water's edge. Thwarted, I throw a stone. For I am here and you are there, and I feel all alone. I have no friendly Hanuman to form a viaduct. I gather scraps together to see what I can construct. Maybe I'll make a raft, or some rickety, old footbridge - Anything to reduce the gulf so much as a hopeful smidge.
the cobra rises: eyes fixed & tongue darting -- all 's still; nothing 's calm
I am a witness for a self-aware world, a world that's not just chunks of matter, but an organism that dances matter into an entity that can know. It can know truth and fiction and the truth of fiction and the fiction of truth. It turns order into disorder, but with knowledge salad on the side. I'm a compartmentalized agent of a super-organism that is beyond my capacity to understand or speculate the purpose of. I am a lonely witness.
in the temple, a monkey finds nirvana through jackfruit focus
On a bacon-scented sidewalk, an hour before the dawn, awaiting the man with a key as I make a dazed yawn. I've a vaguely swimming headache, and thoughts that fail to form. Will we have a crisp, red sunrise, and would it mean a storm? I'd remembered an old saying of red sky morning dread, but that's for sailors out at sea not landsmen missing bed.
morning light
hits downed copperpod blossoms:
ground guilded
the grassy part line disappears up ahead, before the cliff
under low clouds, the boulder-strewn pond looks like liquid metal
