Solution

hungers for its Problem

The Problem collects Solutions

and giggles

like the one with Not a Care in Life

The End

craves its meager Beginnings

Ends & Beginnings swirl together,

talk dirty,

shrug sentient beings off

The Mountain

remembers the Ocean

that once called it the Isle

Time is a Slight Scent

that ever so softly intoxicates Ridges & Seas

Newborn are coins spinning on tabletops,

bound for the edge of Dry Land

and hard kitchen floors

Infants are cousins of Wood Warblers

in light-leafed groves of the North

Newly Dead

are already Ancients,

words in songs that nobody sings,

matter that don't matter,

'cept for manure

and the Transformation of Energy in Pyres

The Live & Bodied

are Gasps for Air

down the Suffocation of Days,

the Crawling Horrors f Night,

the Tearing & Clawing of Intermediate States,

the Dead Silence of Locked Libraries,

the Itch of Sentience touching Anything,

spared Nothing

Longitudes & Latitudes are Shortness of Breath

of Celestial Bodies;

their Coordinate Selves gathering dust

in Thinness of Sentience & Long Last Looks

Everything I see itches & bleeds

I bathe in Coniferous Forests,

wash in the heavy fragrance of Wild Rosemary

of Bear Marshes; loose myself

The Decades will wrap you,

the Centuries paint you black, forget you

When you're away,

each day is a threat of not coming back

The Days come so fast,

stepping on each other's feet, tumbling in,

making making sense very hard,

flickering through me like young girls' laughter,

steadily becoming more otherworldly,

as I dissolve into Existence's Unconscious Resolve

I lie back,

let my fingertips come together,

touching spider-walk lightly, moving impercepibly

before my Caucasian nose,

the slightly ticklish sensation

formulating the Center of the Cosmos, precisely,

with Nothing to Say