time removes what stands in the way,
obstacles melting to stains of forgotten origin,
dung-beetles marking the passage of the hours
in circus rolling mnemonic pantomimes.
nothing moves so much at once as
nothing moving for so long,
then titanic length spasms down the fault lines,
and the landscape is unrecognizeable
to anyone who ever passed this way before,
feeling the disorientation that proceeds a leap,
the dislocation that follows a landing,
I swear time knows more than we do.
Monday, August 20, 2012
There are no words for how I love etymology.
Isn't that ironic? The very definition.
Play on words doesn't even begin to paint
the joy of a medium with no boundaries,
and no drying time- only the constraints of 26 letters,
which is none at all really, just switch to another language,
other sounds, an entire galaxy of words, more words than stars
for look at what it takes to create a star, but I can create a word
instantaneously and effortless to boot.
I wonder if you wanted that to say effortlessly...if your desire for symmetry
drove you somewhere a tiny bit off,
for once I do not have to care; this is mine.
Packed up in and amongst a catalogue of whys
and roots and prefixes
connotations, allusions, questions always of where
did that word come from,
whose mind, whose need- whose need to express something
never before expressed, to someone listening
and in that momenta star is born.
seen from the corner of an eye,
maybe past a few wrinkles,
is a long view into the past.
the mind thinks
but it sees forward, and backward...
how often is one moment relived,
the mind forgets the periphery,
all the eye takes in besides,
all the meat of the world unchosen.
not selected for memory, out on the fringes,
but the more real perhaps,for all its solidity, in never being questioned, at all...