River of Consciousness::::Book Page

Notes

(first page)

Life is a pair of ducks being thrown day old bread by an old man god, slipping into the pond, getting stuck, screaming help::::flailing then drowning.

Life is a car accident caused by a suddenly ballooning driver-side airbag::::car crashing head-on into another, the drivers only injured but all others crushed to death.

Life is smelly feet, edible underwear, an erasure of the inevitable::::an opposite approach would be to dive out of the belly hands first then dive into the grave.

Life is all this nonsense about death, the motion so fluid it seems endless, seamless. What is it we hold in our hands?::::others' hands. There is no death here.

Life is unmistakable from that which breathes. Rocks breathe::::the planets::::even my dead mother and father breathe somewhere. Elevators all lead inward::::never up or down.

Life is dependent upon insects, upon greed and wealth, endlessness and finality. To say the opposite is a lie. No more slaughtering innocence with our wisdom::::we exhibit none.

Like passive buffalo grazing::::Whoa, what's this?::::Train coming, so the herd gallops close, curious, yet desperation once the first is felled::::stampede. Most badly shot, linger for days.

Drinking water is a luxury in the desert, eating likewise a luxury in certain areas of certain nations. Breathing a given, being pressed closer to our heads we cannot remember.

Life is ancient so far as that notion takes us, but we can gather only oldness within ourselves. Life is hopeless so far as we remember, but these are just chameleons.

Acid rain falls, desperation, shopping cart filled with the crud with which to bind the sediments which creates the bottoms of our ponds, of our selves, our muddy banks. He slips into our midst.

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