I’m compiling souvenirs from my travels inward. There they are, nicely glued into a photo album with a little lotus flower centered in a cross-hatched box on the front cover. The back is a bar code and an etched out price tag. I’m able to view these images through a looking glass, a transient one, then all turns to dust. I often open this book to attempt to time travel to the past to travel inward, but it can’t physically work says Stephen Hawking in monotone, there are feedback loops that would destroy the paradigm before the window could even open wide enough, and the grandfather paradox, or to go back and kill yourself in your laboratory as you are assembling the weapon to do it with.
I’d go back 20 generations and kill a stranger. See if the changes are perceptible. Most likely something would disappear from history. Could it be possible to discern that missing thread?
Away now from drab philosophy and into an anti-social butterfly, hanging around his rotting cocoon with only feeble activity dictating the health of his wings, those reflective lights adorned around the windows, the hammered nails and closed blinds. Strong beer and an indecision on how to move forward with this impending obscurity. There are books. There are certainly books for that.
My faraway love asked, “What will you do to tonight?”
Poignant. The question implies that I am the toppling domino effect inciting the violence or peace of this Friday, this very Friday, this moment that my body is contained inside of; so enslaved. A tomb of moments impossible to grasp or repeat. A flash flood of sensations and spatial awareness, although the external is a vague blur of incomprehension. Crows to a scare crow, people are to me. Only one of this relationship lives and breathes and cycles carbon through two straw lungs.
I will act on tonight. I will not passively allow tonight to act on me. To wash me thoroughly, spinning inside of, and never abated by those tidal great walls, those piles of sand bags and boarded up windows will not keep out the night, it is inside your home when you are least conscious. It is inside your heart when you appreciate the sun and the snowy cascade peaks of in the distance while the stress riddled traffic locks arms and skips between ancient lecture halls, splashing through ponds of mirth and merriment, gorgeous water marks on blank bank notes, chest pounding, water fountains frozen mid air and that whole spectrum is a sinister, dark, nonchalant mess of emotions. you can tell which people are wrangled knots of dark vines inside when you identify their deformed gait. that gleeful skipping whilst whistling. that contorted crease of a mouth as it muffles a deep-belly scream. those shaking floorboards of strange, monsters of neighbors, whom are never more than pixie dust in your life.
Finding myself in a faraway stare. The moon this morning over the dying cherry blossoms. The oil slick sea life floats belly up. Sides of buildings illuminated orange while the storm rages on the dark sides we can’t imagine from this angle. All we can do is assume it takes on an absolute negative to what we can see, like the dark side of the moon. (is it an angry face? full of craters?)
Top heavy flowers, I tie them together. The sad realization of death and rebirth while I cease forever some day. Natural world mirrors the habits of the sun. A mighty solar flare could scorch us all in an instant. Never forget it. The illusion is so tightly woven these days that the most powerful people in the world (or the wealthiest) could be launching themselves off in a mission to one of the frozen moons of Jupiter as our earth is obliterated by an unfathomable meteorite. It is as likely as spontaneous combustion. As likely as honest, true love…. As likely as God.
I imagine them, with expensive suits and oxygen masks, awaiting instructions from the lab coat scientists who scramble in fear as the green blip on their radar grows larger and larger, while the sky in their hemisphere remains blue, blue, blue, blue– tranquility paired with dire panic, the sudden flight of all birds in one direction…. the way they came from… they swerve to avoid legions of ground mammals who are also spooked, running in a scramble away from the massive shape beginning to dominate the horizon.
Rocket launches. Scientists parachute out. The rocket containing all of the most lauded individuals of earth, for their superficial gains, false prophesy, wealth… oil tycoons, billionaires, porn stars, republicans… the dregs of humanity… are in a collision course with the meteor… all countries contributed to this prevention method… thousands of space ships… of the ignorant, polluted mindset, littering, group think, monsters… they smash into the meteor one by one, causing a great fireworks show for the remaining humble on the earth, cowering in sweat lockers and gutters, but as they smash one by one by one by one… the meteor reduces size and stature… the earth is duly saved… a shower of pebbles descends…
now to clean up the mess.
tear down the mansions or open them to the homeless public.
massive ocean cleaning units. private pool cleaning services with their nets.. without their chemicals
cars are neutralized. must deal with public transportation. ride a bike.