In an hour

3/3/2025 sit with

NIGHT WORLDS

EXECUTIVE FUNCTION
3/3/2025, Con/Jur/d

Before the sun rose
waking up sitting by ourselves
alone, except for the crowded
skull, the microbiome multitude
the endless breath, we remember

He said,
why always the death trip?
why not tossing the Frisbee at night
beneath the overwhelming lights
the self-shattering worlds arising
when the ONE SUN, among the 

BILLIONS AND BILLIONS AND BILLIONS
turns away from us, softening the blow
by language of RISING AND SETTING
dreams and recovery, all the research

SAYING: YOUR ANCESTORS DID IT WRONG

Beneath the hope offered by owls, the enwombing
and the entombing comforts of hiding, the glowing
of light sensitive eyes, the gentle radiation of planktons
particular fungi, the gentle sparking of your nerves
leaping slower in this DARK DARK

WE SAY: IF YOU MEET YOUR EXECUTIVE FUNCTION

at the crossroads, at midnight sacrifice it and see 
what a better deal you can get, for this WAY STATION
between the LONG LONG NIGHTS

Stretching by subset of infinity
before BIRTH and after RETURN; IT'S NOT A DEATH TRIP
we say, it's not wanting a CEO, a corporate possession 
of the only thing we'll ever own

this brief journey

                              BETWEEN.

YOU ARE HERE

Poem above raw — unedited — done between things

NOT YET BUT VERY SOON AFTER — THE POEM EXECUTIVE FUNCTION WAS WRITTEN WITH ITS DEATH TRIP REFERENCES — SPOTIFY BEGAN TO PLAY THE TIMOTHY LEARY DEATH TRIP SONG — THE FIRST ONE IN THE ABOVE ALBUM

Much love,

Con/Jur/d, 3/3/2025