The Discontents of Time

4/17/2021 We never know where we are on the 17th

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“Despite where he lives, the impacts of time, and an inability to see color via mammalian optics, they know more about aging than I do.”
“If we’re honest, these other versions of ourselves, are better at the process of living, not needing to endlessly complicate everything”
“Jackson Pollock translated the ancient language of time in a new way. with that ability no wonder he drank”

I’m in rushed and lazy mind today. Everything sticks with a short, electric snap.

Today’s poem and then, maybe a nap or the murder mystery equivalent;-)

After Image and Other 2 Word Visions
Con/Jur/d 4/17/2021

Old growth,
shagged bark,
occupied hollow,
feral hedge,
explodes yellow,
entwines green,
accents white.

Shadows boil,
leaves flail.
Shriek & squeak,
branch shudders,
quiet thumping.

Smell rain,
taste iron,
feel clouds,
breath shortens.

Something moves!

Hurry home,
after scene.

Enjoy a lazy Saturday y’all. Much Love,

Con/Jur/d

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