the endless death of space

[sweetwater]

the evening withdraws into twilight and candles
burning in the eve of night
lighting the pathways and corridors
with the strangeness of odours
and the perfume of a nightly shadowing colour

as a twilight twilling and weaving
the possible entrances
and escape

an evening garnishes each
plate with possible items
for the choosing as a radish

and night falls gently
as midnight surrounds
and breaking in

each of us incurably within
silently walking through time
as a maze unto a star filled sky

and the endless death of space

[revolutionR]

Painting with words. I'm more of the slap the paint on, or even the shotgun art of Burroughs.
I read somewhere that surrealist art makes people feel better about death, but they have to really see it first. People go through life and hardly notice the art around them, unless they are so inclined. So what is really different from a surrealist painting or a surrealist poem?
Oh, look a comma is not in the right place. Well maybe it's a black tear.

[sweetwater]

who can really see it
or come back from it

best to live for things
than to die

even to say for a comma

the margin of space as space
or out there
in the lifeless non origin of species
and organic life

out there is death

beyond the scope and comma
of organic life

it's as if we are searching for something
not of ourselves

searching for something that does not exist

other than right here

and yes thanks
i do agree

[justwalt]

the endless death of space,
or the endless space of death
both statements equal

...searching for something that does not exist
other than right here...

hey, that's quantum theory, top secret stuff... shush.