The Outstretched Hand and Time

by practicalspactical

Little bits of me, ordered on magnetic tape and summoned forth through transistors and logic gates – could be anywhere — the epiphenomenon divorced — the sensate separate from the substrate — and what is it — records, bones, fossils — the mineralization of the space that’s left behind after even bones are gone — what Jack Horner will climb these Black Hills with rockpick and paintbrush and discover my sleeping thunder-lizards?

Once upon a time dragons walked these lands —

Three years here, now gone. Two loves here, now gone. Affection remains, always I suppose. Then I was a nothing, my head all full of stuffing. Now almost an officer of the court, my office to uphold – went from mid-twenties to late twenties – gained five pounds — no white hair to speak of. I can still dance. Still party like the best of them, when the spirits move me.

I am a Sleeper. I have slept much and often. Always longing to go back to sleep. To hit fast forward and zoom past the boring bits. Not enough fun. Not enough. Left with my minor madnesses, who sit around me like members of the War Cabinet of my Soul. They do not control, but they do advise.

Half a thousand words. Trace of a picture only. What’s a movie worth, I wonder?

I started this on Day 9077. Today is Day 10,057. A thousand days of life. A slice of life. New Yorker neorealism? The last lyrical snarky gasp of youth? This — call it the Final Resting Place of Life-Imprisoned Darlings —

Reaching. Always Reaching. Reaching out to Ever Distant Others. Ever Distant Other Times. The Endlessly Advancing Future. Woman, I commend my spirit to your arms. Kissed by the water and held in your mother’s arms. Never again will I have the experience of being held in the arms of a giant goddess who loves me with all of her being, who will commit to protect my every need for as long as her power lasts — and her power, her great power, the power of gods and creation, has only waned to the extent that my own has waxed and now am the possessor of that same power —

To breath upon the waters, and change the very fabric of the world.