It was all anyone could to do stop the smoke from curling like dried leaves in the rafters.
Puffing away on a thought,
we tried to stop the flood of time from reaching our minds
and instead hold it still, in one moment,
as the clock hand whizzed by us,
making us waste more time than save.
You cannot save time,
only drift slowly out to sea,
always pulling away from shore.
You’re told that time and/is space moves in many directions
with endless possibilities and potential all happening at once,
but all you see is a single, narrow current
always pulling you away from shore,
a straight arrow fired from the bow that nails the turtle
through the back of the shell.
So we watched our thoughts curl and carry
on the air, but kept them inside the barn,
stuck to the ceiling where they contaminated the ceilings
and lay prints to show we had once sat in our chairs
and thought that maybe there was something we were supposed to be doing,
here, where we happened to find ourselves for a moment,
an old wild person running with skins and spears,
pausing to rub fingers on the walls of a cave,
wondering if this is what he was purposed to do,
and feeling that he was just, just on the verge of understanding a higher, shining light of truth,
about to break it like his mind was cracking open,
a chick thought emerging full-fledged from the skull.
11:36 – 11:51 PM 29/01/2011