Friday, December 6, 2019

Fractal Evening

Looking into the flowing stream
without thinking of jumping in.

Showy snow job of infinite variety
parsed into bits as small as a pixie
pixel perhaps distracted to swirl in
an eddy of momentary recognition

in the sea there’s nothing to hold
onto except the water better than
falling through air nothing to see 
here move along.

Even the wall in front of me is a
stationary, reliable hallucination,
texture of painted concrete a
snapshot of Pollock visualization.

“I’ll have the same again…”
…even though it’s never the same
because you’re never the same
or you don’t remember.

So, good luck with that…I have 
to go out into the dark night, and
when I return…

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