May 18, 2003

  • 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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