yesod shebhod
These both exist: this first hyssop seedling green above the dirt, seed case still stuck to cotyledons; catching up on paperwork that will only ever be completed enough to not be behind on paperwork
and what would it mean to be apace with you, like Chanoch? I pick the wax from my ears; it will regenerate in time for next week’s inquiry. Eternity knows no vector, God says,
only points, concentric and fractal. I think everything can be reduced to distance, proximity, I say. Sure, God says. But when measuring how far you are from me, don’t forget to check behind you.
No comments:
Post a Comment