We can numb it with
ice. It might take time.
But o’clock we’ve got.
And at absolute zero,
frozen stares and
charges flow in pairs,
with even the halting
halted on stairs, and
hate might as well
be a popsicle stand
and it’s loving
standing still,
by the way.
You get to travel
really far. But first
you had to be
transmogrified
to ash and gas,
and some of your
atoms will reach
escape velocity
and fall back into
the sun. It was
borrowed material
anyway, and fine
free Someday
was a good day
for returns anyway.
3D printing everything,
copying it bit by bit.
Filament is made from
bits of real world”,
the ad says. The duplicate
will be indistinguishable
from the original. My
evil plan is afoot. I
don’t worry about
fidelity. My
predecessor
didn’t either.
Evil hands wring
“muahahah.”
Silence has a
tremor to it
a tremble like
a quiet cold. I
wish I could move
fast like that
all the time or
make myself
gigantic with
massive
goosebumps.
But super speed or
growth are for
cool kids and I
get a preview while
freezing in the quiet,
cupped hand, ear.
The art of persuasion
in a world of infinite
is that the ant can
always shove the
rubble down the hill
and blame the gravity
of the situation.
And Sisyphus will
never see the ant’s
mandibular snicker
as he WTFs. But he
knows the agent of
his distress
Just show up every day. Not to hold humanity in contempt. Trust me, humanity already knows its flaws and chooses to ignore. Just show up to create. Consistency is the diatribe against the night. It is the canyon where a river once flowed.
Fanning pages
made a breeze,
a butterfly in 1369
chrysalis-emerged,
and I exhaled. Their
overlap vertex
was chosen
as a site for no
thing, and is
considered one
of the lesser known
anomalies. It’s
documented
here for
posterity.
I’m shrinking from
the reduction, reducing
from deduction. In
fact I’m adding where
you’re subtracting.
Everything from this
point onward will be
documented to the
nanosecond, expanded
in time frivolously and
without extra pay.
A ditch that rejects
its dirt, even
with receipt.
That moment I can
fall into, this time when
my eyes drip, half shut
half then after again ,
asymptotically
approaching
closed.
And in that
time of falling
through solids,
existential crisis
takes a back seat
to ice and mercury
who were always
waiting, patiently.
Just be me, just
a tree, with a path
and a brook, and
infectious shade
that cajoles you
into smiling. At me.
At that tree.
And my only
eccentricitree
is you am you
and me am me,
and I’m working
on ambulating,
but evolution
takes time.
Treading on toast points,
stepping carefully, ensuring
marmalade impressions
aren’t anew. Reuse the
sticky paths from ago.
Feet going “schmuck”
in and out of deep
depressions. “Why, that
imprint alone is decades old.
Preserve the
landmark!”. What a
jam.
Some writers write
and believe they right.
Some wrong, but
trust unseemly
scenes and tryst
with untrue truths.
“Oh my, look
at me, the laureate
deserves acclaim!”
branding with great
self aggrandizing
prognostication,
in arrears. Pulling
a daisy before it
wilts on the asphalt.
A remarkable .com
we’ve had, and I
think back to the
day we hired each
other, all fidgety and
cotton-mouthed in
the interviews. For a
while it was water
bubblers and break
room antics. Then
we trained our own
team. New product
launches always.
Did we before @?
Dear algorithm,
remember when
sharks in cute trees
used to @ you and
ask for stuff, like they
did with red suit guy
and wizard in the sky?
Idle idols in the tree.
Fun times.
Next we’ll be renaming
taxis and cheese
trays. If it’s gold it’s
blue. Card punched.
EOL (sort of)
Self on a shelf. No one
ever dusts. Lots of
building materials.
I could shovel walkways
and build dust igloos.
Fashion a dust golem.
Have dust children.
Pave a road. And
at the end of that
road, put up signs:
“If you were living here
you’d have already returned.”