Thursday, July 05, 2012


I can't judge blueness or
a ring of air on a stone
finger.  Everything we
know is in the ring. Nothing
we know is in the ring.
I break open a walnut
with an ornate silver
cracker. Inside is a tree
that I can eat. Does the
creative occur upon breaking
or is it in joining?
Two tigers chase each other
around a palm tree until
they become butter. Still
I can eat this. The smallest
thing I know is a thought.
But then it sleeps and I
can't be certain. Where is
something I read? Principles
come together. Rain falls
into leaves and becomes
applause. I forget something
and push my way back
down the escalator. All the
while there is still rising.
Where is that first moment
for me? It is not anywhere
and yet I keep showing up


Kathleen said...

Oh, that tiger butter.

ron hardy said...

For Professor Higgs' first boson. Now where's my pancakes.

Kim said...

The first time I read through I thought rain fell into leaves to become applesauce. I guess I'm hungry, too.

ron hardy said...

Applesauce would taste good on my pancakes