The work has been pinned to the line like a laundry of colorful sheets blowing in the wind, since Tara arrived, recalled as if some sunken treasure of the past extrudes subthalassicly to this recycled moment or has it always been this way? She dances behind the window in relative transcendent space, a hidden image in the time lapse camera, oh she could be from another realm entirely beyond the even there and thus abides.
this day advertising assaults occur as they do so, things like “You May Qualify For a Free Wheelchair” (watching thoughts while placing imagery engineering ad design this one will be replete with...heres what you really need - some medicis
Tara smiled eternalumination as I held her up to the window against speckled green patchwork spring ‘Tara’ I whispered without thinking ‘2012, the Mayan calendar, all those confluences consequences’ the ruby bindi sparkled transfixed my eye instantly, a cannonball burst a fire salamander blazes through cartwheels of chariots, there I saw a field, of red flowers open into the distance with the words ‘time will not stop how you know it was never started’
or did it say ‘.. know how it was ever started’
(they recede in extreme infinity perspective to the distant horizon like in Star Wars’ rolling intro...)
but I quite deeply forget where I saw it.
It would be good to support the living...Where did that come from? I witness my hand tremble as if it were not mine and in a chord with required reverent rites retire Tara to the tiny treasure trunk while i shake off the jeepers creepers.
xxx
