Gone of Slow Decay (2017)
Is that expanse of Time, the one of whisperings and of divine,
Illusory is the witness, who by stumbling mistake,
Took solace in emotions, in science, the arts and the State?
Faithfully corrupt into certain self-worship,
As if on a turn-ship, worried for food tomorrow when what’s eaten now is not even furnished.
We cannot witness what is unknown, it soon is as discovered to be,
Formed of words, followed only in short discourse, and forgotten over our times on earth.
Gone for all days are these tricks and these plays, that which we watch with slim anticipation and wait, Only to find spectacle, without satisfaction because it was a jest and a take.
We create worlds in our minds, movies and dreams, waste all our time watching, speaking, and feigning. Only after a while, and rustled leaves settle, will one see not see, some copious crescendo, but some slow decay, of whispering flame gone out with a breath, looking unfiltered, insignificant and obscene selflessness.
Transposed Tree impression, 2017. Van Dyke Brown print.