Inside the Bouncy House ~ Saturday, August 23, 2025

If I could write a novel to describe
for instance, childhood experiences

I could imagine what it would be like

certainly speculation, to imbibe
on the fruit in the Garden of Eden
until my brain melted, all my senses
loaded to overload, to drop the mic
drop the mic, full of the Tree of Knowledge

would I describe directly from the pen
resting in my right hand, words in my mind
in my mind, in my brain, or in my head
travel down to my hand, if I could find
explanations why my thoughts change instead

as they descend down my arm to the edge

nothing touches except ionic bonds
or covalent bonds, in my confusion
vision becomes diffuse without glasses
enlightenment one Sunday holds palm fronds
life is so strange, I reach the edge of space

time reveals connections as illusion
of course, the eye of the needle, passes

dimensions, a camel, in one moment
each experience on a lunar base
slips down my arm in zero gravity
careless of me to neglect to remind
imagination, here in the city
billions of moments occur in God's mind
each connection occurs once time is spent