noon.

afternoon.

evening.

night.

if i have been here before, stared into this chasm and tried to find the void in the concrete at the bottom of the wash,

tried to see the stars by staring into the sun

until the world around me was white.

and i cannot remember

if i have been here before, sitting in the dark and trying to understand how to get up when it feels like drowning,

and how to swim even when the river has dried up,

and there is no-thing left

but

bare

concrete.

drenched in sun, woodsmoke, and gasoline. and we cannot wash this passion clean from our clothes. the first spring rains come pouring down and we keep two halves of

a secret

held in your mouth with the stars. this time we cannot continue but for our own sake. because even when we can no longer dream, we can still become someone else; we can page through their memories and clutch the bouquet of fake flowers they caught at a wedding, whose wedding they can no longer remember but the flowers smell like gasoline and wilt in the heat,

drenched in the sun, woodsmoke, and gasoline; and we have caught fire with an intensity that melts the shards of broken glass and mirror. and we are the wind, blowing the woodsmoke across the rippling water. we are the sun

and the reflections of burning leaves dance in the mirage and in your eyes.

gxd blinking

was a split-second lapse between the river of that unfathomable consciousness and where the earth was unformed, amorphous void that began to take shape.

es hashamayim ve'es ha'aretz: when before it was indistinct from the river, darkness over the surface where the river was, and then where the river was not as the bank and river's edge took shape, solidified, became real in someone's memory far in the future out of myth and out of legend.

the spirit of gxd unbounded over the river, over the water;

in that moment then Heaven snaps, collapsing into supernovae, implode and suddenly every-thing exists, and no-thing, and every-thing, all at the same time; the unfathomable consciousness divides itself into countless nebulae spread across the night sky, across the distances where only gxd's unfathomable consciousness and those that were like gxd could reach.

and gxd said;

and the river coalesced into the ocean and the ocean flowed upwards into Heaven and into boundless stars.

am i supposed to move forward, if i can only remember how it ended; the noise of a hospital hallway and praying. and that it's nothing, and i am supposed to just go home; go back to work.

but it's not that simple.

now gxd sits alone, underneath the freeway overpass waiting for the morning.

all of these ideas used to be dreams that i have forgotten how to have;

all of these paths are roads going forward just with a ramp and a rail where stairs were, where stars were.

i am sitting alone on the edge of the freeway overpass, searching for gxd. i am awake.