State of Consciousness
Some ramblings in the form of a poem sparked by a Hemingway quote my father emailed me and a letter from a neighbor and a rejection from a job
On your own, attracted to the moon’s polarity that calls for your independence
It feels a lot like moodiness, however
She is pretty dramatic, that rock, I think - She sits partially in the spotlight most nights, sometimes completely.
She demands movement and our suppression to Earth
Under the moon
Us, feeling infinite. Knowing tragically that we’re finite
Finite consciousness seems the better deal if we’d otherwise have the opposite.
On your own, imagine the jump form the roadside where you’re parked.
Next to a no parking sign but you threw your apple core through the passenger window earlier - so unlike you (you’ll be yourself tomorrow)
Simultaneously her and you
Maybe you’d just float through the jump -
Or would it be like those dreams where your body jerks from a fall? - you know the ones.
Simultaneousness is the one thing we all who are living can know to be truth
Write a letter to Hemingway, tell him you agree
It is the truest thing I know - that I exist in a simultaneous time with you
Through walls, across cities, under opposing stars
And one day, I’ll meet you under the ground
I’ll bring weed, you bring the lighter - now and then
Maybe I’ll know more then, but for now, I’ve got more to do and so do you
Like rip my nail and bite my lip until it is swollen
Like go outside with frizzy pink hair and pretend to be unseen
Like imagine a world in which humans photosynthesize
and currency is carbon dioxide
and cows are free
and we die of cambium infiltrators not professionalism
God really was on drugs on Tuesday
My Shekhinah, what have you done?
Is the successful me just simultaneously existing on the other side of the universe?
Are we just her failed experiment - like the fig tree we tried to grow in a pot that we named Newt and kissed as he wilted?