Simple Theories

  Some bold exit place for only feet of venture. How flat seems the distance between here and now as a garden invented by fronds. Distance proves impeccable, asserting possession. Imagine a sun just beyond that hill. Moments ago a vegetable, awaiting orogenic fumbling. The table poises, poses. That sound of nothing moving creates that external spark. Land becomes process, movement staid. Town erupts into faction because you know the knot. Address bears tokenized isolation. You have trod upon the land, almost.

  Water lives not always water, and you cannot be always green. You  could , if you know water invites your star. Water makes simple, as your greenness infers. Think the river, startling the land. Changing each moment as a movement and blood flow, your established praxis shies from rest. Water doesn’t rest. The stammering of steam and hard abeyance of ice signal infinite vitality at the drop of a hat. The hat goes maybe mobile in the always left behind. Time has been clean and dirty for you, in watery regard. Light glints water you, in changing notes. Ahead is the past you arrived at. Your smile can grow enormous.

  Motor of snow on ageless ground. Heft makes factions. How snow the weight is, in winter verity. But are you only about dead silent? The voice Of fabliau Like ripest Orogeny. Pines embrace wind movement and voice. Squirrel swing thru the time peace ready to live and die. Roadways only suggest direction. Bulbs huddle complete in the soil and nuance. Hold on, a match or idea embarks as day. Sentiment fills memory. Come on now, allow the forgetting.