I never heard the hurricane, Anne
I’m not small enough to be that close
to the butterfly so as to have the cacaphony
envelope my existence
I grow smaller
with no ears or brain
but I float next to the molecules
that look and act just like me
I act and look just like them
and we know nothing we drift
the butterfly wings move
and we are buffeted and thrown
asunder from what order
we were able to attain through
no direct action of our own
it is the sound that changes us but
it is not heard it is only that which
changes our floating from one location to the next
and the joy of being just a blip of air
recedes
as every thought that is ungrounded will
and WHAT NEXT places itself before me
before us each all
again
gotta eat
Unless he doesn’t
and is it really a sick thing to
see how one doesn’t have to eat
or play or take or even grow
- he could simply be for the time he is
and then it is over, and the next thing is there
The next thing is always there
whether you eat or no or play or no
how many failures how many zeros
for one person to rise and not rising
they lift us for they do not rise we raise them
I can’t find the way to warm right now
it’s very cold, it’s very alone
I drift seeking oxygen with my duality
drifting I do not seek for I do not know that I am
and thus craft no agenda and no not know I seek
I come from starstuff as do we all
the simplest thing to make though I dare not
exist alone so there is that which is me
next to me combined with me
and hey dig that nucleus
so maybe we could cut a deal and
we’ll share some electrons.
I’m getting colder
that huge nucleus that looked so inviting
hangs like an anchor
and I don’t know why I was so interested
in those electrons in the first place
but here I am and I/we fall from grace
of the floating sky down somewhere
a roof, some concrete, or the ocean
it’s more likely then who would notice
me then?
Thanks for listening.
Philip
Filed under: Abstract
