Fields

We’ll have a ball

Lost and found in a field over flowing with water

Breaks in the weeds that form rivulets of holidays

All of it flowing towards some sea far away from me…

I walk for hours and there’s just silence lost in the sound of watery static…station to station

I go on ahead…just deadly unbecoming, god’s famine and that’s all

There’s a field beneath the parted hair

Gaia in her primordial ooze, little men and their obsequious deference…unformed and uroboric

Fuck yeah, this is heaven…it’s what I truly want.

I can hear the sirens and sirens…and sirens

each of them singing…each to each…rising and falling, collapsing, forgotten and forgetting and gone

The sound of a tree in a sea passing out of mind.

And now it’s all on fire. There’s little left to see.

There’s an open problem without question but I’m here to ask it and find the answer

So I do and then fall back into the sea and lose myself in the answer.

What was there anyways?

And where or what or huh…who knows

There’s god in a tower; a lighthouse surrounded by rocks for me to crash on and wash up and then roll over myself and myself and myself

back into the mess; a roiling sea of foam wreathed in Pegasus or Pegasos or some other Greek blasphemy that no one cared about until the Romans came and remade it into their cynical legislative body.

If god was never born who was here to answer who. I say that now but why…

Under the nothing is a quilt into whose patchwork we’re all bound and lost and framed in the silence of nothing becoming something that wasn’t. I wanted to call you but I didn’t say a thing.