This that this that

I throw you the unknown

This that this that

Hey over here, over- HEAR!

Cart on a cup over rocks in a bird’s stomach

Soaring crashing

Overview- over this view, so over this view

But not you and you but them.

Not this not- this right here.

Clear clear I love this. This! Right here.

Hysterically, she courts: Here Hear! Hear me!

Yes, yes, I hear right here.

But sometimes- sometimes I am so over this (over)view.

Released from… congrats.

Now what? I still wait. Weight wade wade into the shadow,

through the muck that smells deliciously mouldy.

Eyes just at the surface blink slowly slowly blinks winks laughs and takes in air

and algae and bird turd and chokes and bloats and bides-

Bides time until there is just enough. Just enough. Say… ten lousy dollars.

Let’s just say, ten lousy dollars. Enough-

Enough to buy a bun, two buns and two cups and a french press and time.

This this right here. Hear!

It’s good now. The shadows are good now.

Lay the hand on the moss. Sink the cheek into the moss.

The moth and the moss- in time.

In time, the root overtakes the bone and pulls it down, past the moss

and the rock and the roots and the decay. Away and overlay

and the sun through the leaves offers pockets of hope,

and the shoot and the root crush under the boot.

Here… Hear. HEAR! HERE!