S.B.T. 439

before i knew it, i found out that according to the trees, the ones i know personally, there are no spaces between them. their root legs feather out like veins underground, a stretched mirror of their top limb'ical syst'm. and of course they signal-speak more or less to each other, cues in the wind, they wave, touch leaves on a breeze, they often bend over each other in storms, while under the topsoil their shanks intertwine, sap running through arteries, on high vibe nature alert, tall, quietly majestic, welcoming to birds and little beasts - there are no spaces between them.

but, "empty space, in a complexity of connectivity, with multi loose ends, is a need," i tell you, "for a creative type of person."

so i consider that spaces between things are a disconnection.  a chance to vacate from thought-like inclinations, from repetitive evocative scents, sense and senses, from any kind of crushing intimacy, from some overwhelming daily drudgery-doo.
but it widens the gap between the tiny nerves under my skin and the molecules of air that swirl all around from tree to tree to me.