walking all day

Spin away  spin away  into absolute  space absolute  space as matter  vanishes and spirit  swirls around  in vacancies  in time  in vacancies  in time  where no place no  no place nor  when even matters  so is this where  we visit our  consciences and explore  the vital grains that carpet the high flat land form only vast sky horizontal lines on  our consciousnesses  embedded stones  layer the walk  down to the slow  swollen river  saturated  solid earth  reins it in  to its always  temporary course  stilt-standing birds  and darting  probing birds  bounce and dart  along the rivers’ shores 

near Triacastela, Galicia, Spain banal conjuring language and then… if I wrote this for compensation then when I began I lost the purpose as though my loss were an addition and I lack purpose and ambition but look at this ridiculous poem I wrote without purpose but to stir the deep roots of an ancient chestnut tree writhing against the rain and the fog and twisting cold winds in a forest damp and dark peopled with sprites and fauns and fairies gathered in dance chambers of thousand-year-old witches hiding their powers now in the close living wooden chambers centered deep within the trunk of the chestnut tree

carved in granite  on the ground in the Sierra de Atapuerca near Burgos, Castilla y León, Spain Immense gatherings of birds and ideas and natural newly-shorn fleece-covered humans who have gained freedom from clothing and ideology and the need to think come together as a collective entity tight with one energy only illumination enlightens the sensitive nervy membrane of the retina blows away fog and clears dried webs, dead torn and obsessed with dust

a warm day on the occasion of the birth of February when energy asleep awakens for a moment and then crashes into a polar vortex a lifespan like the hours-long life of some gossamer insect that flutters about till it finds its mate then after congress its wings stall it collapses to the ground and dies