Fire Pit

I opened the dishwasher and placed the clean dishes in their proper places, closed the cabinet doors, and went off to a dishwasher in a cabinet where black widows suggest, their poison remains kept under tight control, rarely do they leap out and attack, instead they are the snow outside, the snow: roams about in the wind until the wind is the wind of something else, and the tide exchanging oceans is also how birds fly—and we do not necessarily need to be convinced that every neighbor in this neighbored must deny the sound of unstoppable thinking, it is possible a few here have learned to find a fire where a fire is without a solid firepit, of course if you live here you have to pay taxes and that’s not a question—yet knowledge crawls across spaces to incorporate the steady-hand of innocent routines. It’s a hard fact stone takes duration to weave a bracelet in which houses on the wrists of their inhabitants can take pride; is it impossible? It doesn’t matter for anything matter worthy for talking. Sitting at a café envisioning a year of complete silence in a cabin in the forest without seeing people for minimal stretches of two weeks on end. But space moves just as planets do, and space, though probably impossible to calculate because there’s nothing to measure space to, except the things within it, contains in its movement the senseless action of space, (not locatable), which is what it is within which is something we can only wonder about while all of it, (us within it), is actually wandering. Many build houses, some build bridges, some walk. If I could bring these beautiful crystals with me, perhaps I would. But the pyramids are not the end of an era, they simply mark the terrain of a river. Being among the company of crows and owls.

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