Lid

Turning approximately
In place, so that the sunlight
Seems to be losing its grip,

The planet tilts the tiny
Differences in its surface,
Its irregularities

Too thin for the fingernails
Of a god to get a grip,
And cliffs glow and look mighty

To something even smaller,
Kind of thing imagines
Gods with fingernails close-clipped.

Small Rockfall

Whatever happens
To history, this
Unhistorical

Slab of buff sandstone
Will have to erode,
Even if it’s not

Exploded before
It’s left well alone.
Hey, isn’t it fun

To know some things will
Be in the past long
Past the day you will?

Silk Triplines

It’s easier to find
Something to say in words

Someone already said,
Phrases already phrased,

If only to reply,
Only to call them lies.

It’s difficult to sense
Lures to attract meaning

Hidden in the landscape
Of a still afternoon

In the hills, in the town,
Trap doors flush to the ground.

The Fifth

There are five forests,
Five cities, if you’re
More comfortable

With lines of buildings
Than with crowds of trees.
Which one should you chose

To risk exploring?
The forest-city
Of lies, of half-truths,

Of facts, or of truths?
It would help to know
Which was which, of course.

But wait. That’s just four.
Which one is the fifth?
Approximately.

Streaming Argument

The past is dead
The past is gone
The past is another planet

The past is alive
The past is still alive
The past is a grotesque animal

The past is where you are
The past is where you were
The past is where you belong

The past is real
The past is out of sight
The past is out of sight and out of mind

The past is just a story
The past is where it stays
The past is fading over time

The past is far away
The past is a rhyme
The past is not your fault

The past is not mine
The past is not the past
The past is the past