Psilocybe cyanescens
Imagine time as a wave.
I don't mean like some illustrations
in our physics books,
the universe some kind of net,
a grid with a hollow like a hammock
when someone is lying in it, one
of many in a gym or a stadium
waiting out a storm.
No, I want to imagine
time as a wave made of the tiniest particles
moving both forward and backward—
A train pulling in and out of stations
from early morning till night, running on
this idea that something carries us
even if we can't always read the signs
flickering in hallways.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
