How sinister the clover in this bed
that lays in wait for me.
Not to be laid upon but under
now my heart no longer thunders
in rhythmic harmonies.

How lurid is the bird
that sings strange funeral melodies
in yonder leaning tree.
With notes that float to be unheard
as dark accompaniment to my strange destiny. 

How morbid, too, the buzzing just above
of this fuzzily bumbling bee.
Seeking to make honey I’ll never taste
now that I lay in waste
for all eternity.

Yet how absolutely perfect it all is.
How darkly beautiful all things be.
As the triumphant sacrament of life
endures the futile sacredness of death
to perpetuate the Great Mystery.

Perpetuality

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I am streaming through the ravines of morpheus.
Pausing long enough to take a look here
...and there...
but not truly rest.  
I have a mission, a reason for pushing onwards
towards the beyond even at the expense of duress. 
Dreams not yet dreamt beckon me. 
There is a hunger never yet felt that stirs my compassion…

I see the museums of tomorrow
filled with the artifacts of today. 
Remnants of our lives are there. 
There’s even an ornamental pot
filled with a hodgepodge mix of our cultural DNA
kept tepid on a neutron stove. 
Don’t ask if you have a place
or if I have a place...
there.  Don’t ask. 
If you’re high, you’ll know.

They look back on us, you know. 
They look back mostly with piercing eyes
trying to pry into our mysteries. 
Gimlet eyes that radiationally hunger for our absorption. 
That is the hunger I feel. 
The hunger that wants to know
what it felt for us to be real. 
For us to be . 
Listen, you’ll hear them from afar and feel their gaze. 
The future is finally becoming our voyeur. 
Time itself is tripping. 
And all our *realities* are subject to revamping
As they probe backwards through the haze.

Yet drawn am I not only
to the numinousity of this back-infusing future
and our current prospects for lunging thereto,
but also to our own ancestors capacity
for wondering about us —and us about them . 
Can we suspend temporalities
and huddle in a nurturing timelessness? 
They *pushed* us to here. 
Can’t you feel the push? 
We are where they left off
—the empowerment of their future, their dreams. 
We are the culmination
of countless human Fizzies fuzzed into fruition. 

A bubble here newly forming. 
A bubble there now surfacing
to pop and rejoin the atmosphere. 
Life is nothing if not a big bubbly. 
Drink with zest lest the beverage goes flat.

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