Calliope, Toppling

    With  grace.  
Gravity of asteroids, suns & stars, fractured
and silvered.
                             Firmament there. Here,
and now, more precisely, a watching point.
Like live cams at Fifth Avenue & 45th
capturing each&every object flowing through
inert space and time and, hey!
you are there!
                            Until [the] leaves and
things begin to fall, time/ stands still.
Resonant with serene dignity not
often found in colours or small
mammals.
                         Ohh, the past is solid,
you can bank on it, you can sit on
it. Chill--      agh! in this capacity
light can be so purely passive.  
Low-watt. Energy-efficient like
an organic piece of art-- say, bonsai-- patently
evolving, shifting, riffing though blue & blue time,
whiz-bang-erasing short-term memory & celebrating
the fluorescent.
                                            Why not manifest
sequence? Goddamn moon all in red
with a big, black isthmus. A waiting
point.... Intervallic.    Sequence…  
sequence is destiny, sweet permutation
of time and tan. Song, then, the language
of orioles and whales.
                                              Symmetric
             and elegant as sky.         Like
        the way Ali walked to a corner
     when Foreman spun &  
 fell/ back in the Jungle.

                                              Marty Esworthy