Running for eons can make even evolution breathless

The continents whirl about on their indecisive shorelines

Plants and animals blink in and out of time and its tempera

Somebody will say something about an eighth day in rags

And that’s before even the first word is shrieked

Thus from smaller to bigger garden we go

All that was then and now it is a little more of then  

So gather your sticks for a new campfire and diagram your best now

Get that fire going past otherwise otherwise all exits will be unbearable

Under the arc of a new universe every center will eventually go blind

Out here in the drunken suburbs of spirals ferns blow breezes

Green blows wind

Rain hurls gales

Butterflies start hurricanes

Yet another I shoring debris

Meanwhile a baker has a menu

An eclipse is waiting to take your order

The panopticon is serving time with spectronomy

Another darkness waits to turn the key

A shadow of the Original Walnut bursting

And banging its hard forehead into time

Breaking infinity’s eyelid into light

Into the jagged space between thisness and thatness

Traveling all the way across the Great One-Breath seeding mirages

Until the seeds finally run out at the Sagittarius Dwarf

That’s where the apple comes in

A smuggler of geometric proportions with a hundred billion hands

Sowing desire for every I entering the bleachers

Scattering I-squared into I-squared into I-squared into I-squared

Into a moist garden serving layers of skin with shadows under the vengeful sun

Pressing its solar privates into the lush kaleidoscope of yes versus no

Yet another woman under another man

Riverrunning past Eve and Adam’s heavy breathing

Lisping It’s time for you to go