Fish In the Afternoon

Zzzzz-t, zzzzz-t, zzzzz-t

Mosquito

Spirit is moisture.

Condense and evaporate, flux-pond motioning in formless apeiron. Swampy matter sparses and denses into life, human-soul animal-ghost. Drink from this bread and eat from this wine, mosquito seraphim bzzing holy holy holy; fire-alight in alligator-tongue-melody, reptile-psalms in excelsis deo.

Time dollops space like the hills and hollers of an unfolded quilt, ensouled fabric emanating spiritmatter as bodied story and storied body. Manna-breath piles solid atop fishscale Zeno, rolling across the grass lover-in-lover, the tortoise and the hare.

We are the are, we speak the have-been, we do the to-be. Haunting being, hazy becoming, the mo(u)rning of memoryless time.

Veil over veil, O the Omega. Sparrow crying tearless in lost and empty Ozarkia.

Cooooo-cooooo-cooooo

Dove

Image: Forest Swamp, Arkhyp Kuindzhi (c. 1908)