Thursday, October 1, 2009

lib erty gard ens th rough th e han ds of jon nel son

embarking on a surface without comprehension


the remnants of what lay behind


as plants spoke from their rooted elevation


telling us to gaze beyond what at first the eye perceives



into a distant recognition




that vanishes in the depths




of our playing field




and at once the mind may fixate on something it forgets to see





"hold on guys; i need to stay here; i need to be here for a while"





but in passing it is what was long ago a current current




of abandoned actions congealed
here
for
ever










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