These were things one happened upon,
senseless crystal bits
fixed for one second
for once and for all
These were things one happened upon,
senseless crystal bits
fixed for one second
for once and for all
Can you fix me in the flame?
on a cold morning
when the sun strikes
and half its life is coming
and half the world is gone
a field of weeds and daisies,
where the heat and sweetness
rise together,
and the horizon is enough.
Does the wiggler want out
or does it eat what I can’t see?
Whatever it’s about,
an ant got the worm
and the strong have their way
in biology.
What if we,
like the rock splitting the stream,
could split the atom
and watch the parts roll and rejoin
in combos unknown?