Swell hell unforgiving unbidden
The anchor drags along the sea floor, fish scattering and sand billowing.
Deep peace in the dark depths disturbed.
Chase up along the wire coils and then bow and boat and wave crests thudding below a rumbling sky.
Black clouds snigger as they race each other and dump down heavy bands of rain, a black backdrop to the savage sparks of intermittent lightening, a malevolent canvas for the raps and rumblings of air ripped and torn.
This is no place to stop, no welcomes in this dream.
I toss and turn, mind caught like a fish on a glistening steel hook, the barb embedded and stubborn. Tiredness and turmoil wrestle in the night, my body frozen somewhere between awareness and chaos. Feedback loops- those damn feedback loops! Weapons that are their own ammunition, a thought that is the very idea of itself, a symmetry turned in, a pulse that grows on its own signal, growing to the edge of sense and pushing out the boundaries. Curves and circles, great rolling systems unfolding over vast distances… the empty space between the smallest particles, empty but filled, mysterious in any scale but the thin strand in which we momentarily stand.
It is to these random destinations that the mind left to wander will find itself. The expanding balloon scraping its own edges, considering the scale of zero and infinity in one moment, an expanse of every possibility, but devoid of actual shapes. Try counting sheep.. sheep sheep sleep.
No time to wallow in the art of being dislocated. Disband and unite untie the ego and watch it float downstream, turn to leave but see it ahead again, more circles sending it back with a cunning knowing gaze… Ok ok, I do not believe that I can be rid of you, but you can’t call the shots. I ponder my triangle, of Content, Courage, and Calm, a simple trinity that doesn’t demand much more than effort.
Ah, what point, none coming. Even it it were there in the boggy soil, even it were dug out by calloused hands and sinewy arms, and cleaned off with generous care, and taken to the centre of a small obedient town and looked at there- even then, it would be misrepresented, mistaken, misplaced….
Sand falling through fingers, gravity’s consistent desire, layers and layers below my vacant musing, the mumblings of electrons, half arsed but willing to work as specified. Maybe tomorrow sheer boredom will provoke a quantum revolution. Energy and mass and motion, in time, are time, no existence without change, but no good in hammering too long on those doors- they only lead to more edges, more entrances.
A good word hurled, history books the filtered remnants of millions of newspapers, the confusing exposition of exponential growth. Information and more of it, expansion until overcrowded, supply and demand and a million equilibriums. Homus Economicus, unswervingly rational, but still regarded as a hearted being, but where can mind be without close behind, the flow of blood and the beat of an irregular balance? Bodies in rhythm, resonating like trees on a stormy day near a lake in the west…. and that is what you are looking at. I came, I saw, I photographed.