Good night, Facebook. ---- Memory In Three Variable States by Tim Pfau Solid — it’s tactile and known, the diamonds and dust, each atom bonded to sisters and brothers, falling only to fracture, melt, erosion or time’s relentless crush. Grinding against others, even the welds shall devolve to sand and sand to the specks. Matter’s clearly delivered by soft lip’s, or stone’s, touch which seems infinite until events’ succubus mouths lick hollow wet abrasions across each small perception raising shadows and shades of other states, for such ghosts sow both solutions and winds. Liquid — all swimming with wild transience condensed, steaming motion, blood breaking black in rapids of change, flush and ebb without permanence, spatter and flood, a sliding past, an ooze, hydraulic shifts of pressure contained within itself, or perhaps not, for unbound they flow to ultimate edge, dissolution, rising or receding. Dark foams cycle down through serial drains, lingering stains are eventually washed. Spirits who swam by in old come or tears, these sprites leave behind just crusts and small cracks. Gas — faintest aromas flavoring air, evaporation or ablation born, rising as mists. Molecules, related, touch others only by distant magic. Bownies dance jigs in shifting collisions, fairies unseen while spinning in vacuums. Scents may be hinted, sought or avoided as each lands fleeting in nose or on tongue pricking and petting small intimations, shape-shifting lies, like all smokes and vapors. Haze masks infernos, fogs curtain the cold diffusing photons, these matters we dream.
Posted on: Sat, 17 May 2014 02:52:26 +0000
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