do you realize how far outside of the formula for judg-a-ment we are at this space/time? the Captain said incredulously, staring at the control panels, sweaty brow, making a re-ality-calculation
all that time: "why didnt I or couldnt i cease the nervous drumming" i asked myself in wonderment. at what had been, from here, looking so ridiculous (ly back on times past) and wondering if i should don the tablecloth and wear it like a scarf and say the god-almighty heaven with it
my guide says i needn't hold back, she says that, i open the tissue box.
Someone would want to cast a wan smile in this spot but not me, i won't do that. too much trouble.
The point was to try and break open a discovery of any certain depth measurement in the ghost trails, those wispy footprints, the little rabbit-hops, behind. Those observable signs to navigate backwards with.
the trail seems to be going though the wood, winding around granite rocks and sacred ladyslippers.
"You gotta be quick!" the rabbit calls ahead, checking his watch, making sure to be in sync with diaphanous skinny time, snappy time, moderno, in the flow,
even so— the concept can be stretched out to where timing is divine, so relax, baby, relax.
Fleetwood Mac - Gyspy -Stevie Nicks
