Friday, February 13, 2015

From the Porch

slowly it starts to turn
on its axis
facing out to entropy
dark skies
wavering thoughts
fragile thoughts;

no, shortly after, I take my walk, I don't go very far, the road doesn't go very far,

it ends just up the hill, tho, the crest isn't high enough, isn't elevated enough
to see very far, I can just make out the tops of a line of trees, what seem to be trees,

imagine the forest goes on and on, on and on;

stuck to this dirt and cement centrifuge
I have come to terms with my immortality,
with my self-imposed limitations,

I can live eternally in this tortured moment, conjuring the endless
green of earth, or move off into the shade of artificial lights guiding me home.

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