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Flowers Fall — we see this as a salute to impermanence — possibly — seen from a side angle — it is to make room for the new I often walk the same cemetery — yet — I am often confronted by new revelations False flowers take too long to make room for novelty We need ruins to make space for us — and for us to make space for the arising Almost unfair how other cultures have embraced the void — allowing the fecund to flourish — side-stepping the laughable idea of Post Truth Possibly — we could call it adolescence Or honesty — we just don’t know and what we’ve thought of as truth — is less than a splinter in the neuropathic little toe of a drunken god At least — they know how to clean while cooking — a skill I’ve never mastered Much love,
Con/Jur/d, 9/21/2022
Fading into the new
The value of truth; that there exists a concept of a lie and some how feeling disenchanted, discarded, disillusioned; “She no Penelope”.