timespace

give me a picture
give me a place
give me a pasture
give me a taste

timespace that
namespace
occupied
- from
which
i pluck
poke and
prod at moments
already happened -
and those not yet
arrived, aka thoughts.

the poetry of life
is visible sometimes -
the right time of day, the
right amount of light coming
through a hole in the clouds, the
sound of laughter in the distance, or
a voice whispering in your ear...

phone beeps, buzzes, makes its way
across the desk, vibrating.

schleping papers around town,
down amongst the buildings and
the bustling of people ...

the future is online and non-
linear.

ar(gh), a line...

hook and sinker.

stinking book of
month old poems
lingers in the mind
like a refrigerator with
just enough of the lining
missing to let escape enough
cool to make the inside the same
temperature as the outside.

timespace
a race but
not necessarily
to the end as all
points pass by one
another and split off,
as galaxies of thoughts
spiraling outward at ex-
cessive rates. obsessive
tears in the fabric of what
is and what was and the
two meld and merge (as
if made of anti-matter) into
a new reality henceforth
referred to as the unknown
dimension. timespace, that
special place, not necessarily
materially but perhaps in a
dream, an extended gaze at
a stoplight or in the grocery
store.

we each occupy our own and
somtimes they collide but mostly
dance and intertwine with each other
in a grand choreograph beyond our com-
prehension. no tension. release. let go and
shown without words alone but with actions.

more pieces of the novel come to me,
gestating in my mind. not the beginning,
though. i imagine, with the topic, the first
few lines will come to me suddenly when
i least expect it.

except for the occasional
reminder that he didn't
belong in the normal
universe, the time-
space traveller
could create
realities in
which the
mass reality
didn't collide too
much with his own
personal reality - of day
and night and afternoon
dreams. (can you hear me
sounding the words, wondering
aloud?)

canal street of the mind.
i stumbled on it in the real
world the other day and the
sign post opened a ribbon and
let loose a box of thoughts - still
flying through my mind like leaves
in October when it's still somewhat
warm enough for no jacket, but just
beyond, maybe a day or so in the
future, it will get cold and the season
will change ...

change will
inevitably
happen.

timespace
my canvas
on which to
recreate the
way in which
i interact and/
or exist with the
whole of the uni-
verse. syllable by
syllable, able to be
lulled into true security.

give me a map
give me a key
give me a sign
give me a season