After red

I feel time rushing at me and

Myself, pumping and boiling and alive, I see it all, the

blinking iris eye — the photograph

it takes

Time frozen — immortal — yet momentous

and moving. The things themselves, it is

sight

that leads and experience that keeps

Immortality follows, the only secret.

SECRET.

Seen through the window he sits staring at the kitchen table.

He heard somewhere that

— I am reading the book backwards —

Beauvoir could stare at a table for hours

and marvel and

Sartre envied her.

Sartre had to repeat, “It is a table, it is a table,”

where for

Beauvoir, “the whole meaning of my life is at stake.”

He realized he could not put his body and soul into living like

Beauvoir could.

Seen through the window he sits staring at the kitchen table.

NATURE

moves her steady hand calmly through

the earth as we try to capture and

exclaim!

all that we know. As we

observe contemplate imagine

What watches down from the seamless sky

to bear witness?

Forward hitting our eyes the sun rises while

night plants shivers upon our bare backs.