The shadows of leaf and limb waver out of focus on the tree trunk, a blurred version projected by the walk it off sun, the verite of this cinema an aftershock of the double seeing to be done. Our eyes add the stories as the world meets us with stick and stone. We have fallen and we can’t get up. We move like the world moves, in all directions at once. Our symbols all stitched into our senses, everything sticky from the constant pawing of our monkey minds, everything laden with colored ribbons and bitter fruit. All the children dance and pray, hoping mercy shows today. The sun and tree keep the act going, at least from where I’ve been seated.
Oh, for the sippings of the whispering winds! Oh, for the swaying limbs sharing the morning moon! These maps of ancient passings, these remnants of the world before the flood. There’s just no pleasing some people. This god playing both sides and always throwing conniptions. This world ordered in every direction every which way. Everything chemistry, everything physics, everything bardo there are never words enough. The monkey always finds something to climb. The monkey always finds some shit to sling.
Alchemy and alkaloids, the tuning and the transmission, location and velocity another viscosity moving matter through the sieve of seeing. The time taken for each undoing, the thousands counted, the billions missed. I have already had my moments. I have long since missed my shot. The numbers always missing from the narrative, the broken branch knowing nothing of the thriving of the tree. It’s yes and and no and all the conjunctions and punctuation you can add to the heap. The possibilities are endless if the probabilities play out. Ask and you shall receive, but you never know quite what. God thees and thous away, I answer with a good says who and an old fashioned sell that soap down on down the road. I’d rather take my lumps than give that jerk the pleasure.