It was dark before. The night and my life both. Incalculable. If the universe was a rug, an ocean of its silken follicles was tumble dried, risen on organic escalators, clouded, tipped over at the top shelf, began again, reorganized some inconceivable iterations. Someday some computer will know how many. Now that we’re watching it’s different, maybe we can come close to an estimate. It doesn’t matter. I can blend in a crowd but something about my vision is illuminating, that’s what matters. Object permanence is the ability to recognize that a thing exists even if it is out of sight. That means once it seemed to us that the loving soft-bodied voices around us reincarnated daily in the kitchen, bathroom, and living room, etc. The house is the first model of our universe. The body delineates eons of evolution in a few years. The world bends at around twenty miles…that’s where the horizon begins. that means that the lumber from Saguenay may as well be from another world to a toddler. This house will burn. It’s dark during. The blink is a pause where the tempo of the night begins its crescendo, eventually, after years of dueling, it’ll win – the night, the dark. Is there a thing my eyes can’t look upon? De Chardin wrote that since the atmosphere hugged the world, not a single new atom has been introduced, the only thing that comes in now, daily, even if it’s night something is the yellow dwarf type GV2 spectral photon-rain – sunlight. Some people bathe in the Ganges because they believe Vishnu’s toe pierced the firmament that held the causal ocean out of the universe and that that flowing water is the Ganges. Some people go to Auvers-sur-Oise looking for the thread Gogh let go of as he lapsed between the parallel ethereal and ephemeral inter-dimensional reels hoping to pick it up, perhaps that he holds onto it still, because they want to play telephone, subtle Morse-code. My grandfather explained relativity to me in an elevator. Before we got in, I was sure the buttons we pressed raised or lowered us to other floors, other planes. Once we got out, I wasn’t so sure. Does the second floor come down to me? Gasses here are the exhalations of stars. I looked at a streetlight and saw the negative during my nap, trailing up towards the left hemisphere. A helium balloon pops eventually. The negative is a memory now. If I don’t remember it soon, pull the thread down, keep it close to the ground, the charge will diffuse in the space between neurons. If I look long enough at 42.9956° N, 71.4548° W someone beautiful will mirage into visibility. In the hush of the eyelids gavel brought down, the marvel and fortune of form is dealt its due justice – finitude. Ackerman says the word infinity derivates from the French in fini – incomplete. Isn’t it easier to comprehend the infinitude of the earth like that? It’s just not complete. A draft beneath the hands of perfectionists or slackers, who’s to say? Sunlight agitates what lifeless Legos of atoms charged with potential sift in the revolving globe of its beams. If the eye looks long enough at a blank page the world can change.
