ground level poem
Sun soaked train at 2:24
Slender neck palms. Poised. No one has the saying over whether the crown is a head or a closed pair of wing.
They seem to have no appetite, however, for this city around them. Flashes. Colors. Colorful train. Noisy.
Either poisonous or male, in most cases. As by natural laws. Or not. Anyway the train has passed, and so was
the train of thoughts. And the thoughts of living outside one’s trunk. All a smear.
Only colors settle, in the reflection or reflections or finally, in the people. Vibrant and high on saturation.
Everything a fossil of themselves in sun
to stand against the burning quicksand of time. Erasure goes well with exposure with the exoteric. From which a navel orange bleeds liquid gold and nobody doubts. When is truth nudity? If not fallible, fragile, and vice versa. That’s why I hate sun despite all that I owe to it. Or maybe exactly for all that I owe to it. No room for a lack for a longing and thus love. Only scarlet red, the new color of transparency. I still would rather live in a lie. In which no doors slide open with a gust of sticky air and more bikes jabbing into my atmosphere like a double-edged sword.
Loud announcements in san serif.
Viridian flames of soft pine sparks west in wind.
For the first time I am knowing a shimmering off the pulsating of tides. A still shimmer
of life. Quiet but fierce. Never has those remote impressionistic paintings felt so literal.
The absurdity of observing the same trees in a dubious flying rectangle screen and the absurdity of even feeling so. After all, they are the Rome and we are roads. The one thing I love about this place is how unapologetically these plants sit themselves in thrones anywhere despite the inelegance of these concrete-plagued land and make everything around them sheer props. Lights on.
Maybe this explains why it is so hard to emphasize with a tree here. To empathize, is to assimilate another with gut feelings by eating the other. Whereas here what you can do really is to surrender yourself to the trees. So it isn’t emphasizing technically. No one is speaking anyone’s language. Just silence. Maybe that is what we all
need. Co-silence.