Lucky Hat Day.
A sleepy bulldozer carves out the hillside,
a place for tomorrow,
what follows on, the jungle & the forest are without,
we live in glass gardens
shooting down stars. & in spite of the fact
of public hygiene there will be hunting
What follows on …. is …. & so on.
Man cannot live on myth alone,
he shall earn his soil somehow, between
the Big Bang & the Big Slam …. there will be -
but not so fast …. for reasons unknown
All will become, a display
copy after copy, variation after variation, so it goes
on & so on …. that which follows
A biological field in outer galactic space,
the world is their toilet they shall not want.
The world is a patchwork quilt
stitched up to the hilt its seams;
& we quarter it in our dreams
upon which our edifice is built
Where mind is a bobbing float
tugged on a rushing stream;
& beneath the skin & bone
a ceiling sky mirrors dream
Into a discrete ensemble,
time’s arrow smelts in quicksilver;
& we the emergent, tremble
extended from alpha to omega
Of man in short, …. of man in brief,
what will he think next, after all ?
A computer brain at the end of time,
Pack, the near infinite,
(in – the moment before you munch.)
take a bit of the biscuit
before the Big Crunch,
it’s an eternal packet
& having all, what’s next?
After David Deutch. The Fabric of Reality
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