the mushroom may
grow next to
other mushrooms
but not on top of them.

Two may decide
to grow along side
one another.
they may lean
so close that
it seems their
base is one,
but still each
stands level but
seperate on the
same ground.

look even closer
and the individual
mushroom is, itself,
a relationship of its own.

each mushroom,
from stem to cap,
is a population of
individual and free
single celled organisms
who bond together
for strength and structure,
to abet the survival of all.

really puts the
human condition
in perspective.

grueling
    grinding
ingratiation.

smiles and
small talk
carefully carelessly
feigning interest for
a friendly facade

    grueling
    grinding
ingratiation.

trailing like meteors
ash flicks of embers
that tumble through darkness
and no one remembers
dissolving in liquid
like powdery pigment
that forms and then fades
in less than an instant
its all spreading out
like scatter star skies
each as the other
in dark and disguise


molecular symphonies
energized masses
that circle each other
like sublimised gasses
a hailstorm of being
a meteor shower
reactive conversions
of matter and power
its all spreading out
like scatter star skies
each as the other
in dark and disguise

geometric counterparts
huddle passed
the looking glass
down avenues
and cellar doors
colliding with space.

horizontal
up and downs
are dashing fast
and above ground
crashing passed
they come unbound
a faint taste the trace.

hollow birds
are tumbling
and wobble as
they hobble down
the staircase of eternity,
and nothing's a race.

old organic
ornaments
obsolutely absolute
clatter passed
a point of mute
with gradual grace

/////////////////

piled up in
hills and mounds
from scattered spores
to twos and fours
in scores and scores
then more and more
that run out of space

swelling mass
of organites
capitulate
and end the fight
for willingness
to throb in tune
and forgo the face.

the slow trickle
of water torture,
beads of
glacial sweat
carving canyons,
torrents of rain
sweeping
leaves
dirt
and trash
through a
miraculous dance
passed the curb and
down the drain.

to the living
minutes and moments
are just drops of water
                on an icicle.

such an elegent procession,
such elaborate progression,
and, too, ulimately fragile,
      the reality of mortality.

furthermore,
              on time:
we view the world
as a stop motion animation.
perception of time
is invented,
utterly subjective
and therefore fallible.

time is,
quite literally,
an optical illusion,
a homegrown hoax.

all moments can be one moment
to that which blinks but once.
the sum of all instants
is one single instant.

and so
stalactites
reach for
stalagmites,
bond and be one,
and find comfort
in their caves.

attraction has
its origins
in the atoms.
maybe earlier.
that was jim morrison's
"atomic love".
electrons were the first roses.

time may be a lot of things
but time is not money.

those poor
capricious
capitalists.

time isn't money.
time is life ticking past you.
time is death ticking closer.
time is just a fraction of
your unknown duration.

time is a lot of things
but it's not money.

nothing is money
because money is nothing.

what those notes of paper?
those round pieces of metal?
not even any nutritional value?

no sir,
theres not much that
money can do for me.

now time,
thats valuable.
I can do things with time.
I can make things with time.
I can learn things with time.

trade my time for money?
well I think I'd rather
just hang on to my time
and you keep your money,
hows that?

good.

hurston had it
figured out.

love and living.
those two things
that can't be taught.

love and living,
we're bound to fall down
and thats part of the deal.
because we'd never learn
from our mistakes
if they didn't hurt so bad.

we were
shattered to sparks
and rolled up in mud,
and so far as
love and living,
we're on our own.

might never get them right
but we'll sure keep trying.

and not one without the other.
loving to live and living to love.
can't survive no other way.
no ma'am.

hurston sure figured
this whole thing out
for me.

not to mention,
a man's got nothing more
than his hands and feet.
neither the things he makes
nor the places he goes are his.
just hands and feet.

and so now i walk,
slow deliberate steps,
like praying each time
foot touches ground.