#ed roberson

i must be careful not to shake anything in too wild an elation. not to jar the fragile mountains against the paper far- ness. nor avalanche the fog or the eagle from the air. of the gentle wilderness i must set the precarious words. like rocks. without one snowcapped mistake

“Some endings of the world overlap our lived time, skidding for generations to the crash scene of species extinction the five minutes it takes for the plane to fall, the mile ago it takes to stop the train, the small bay        to coast the liner into the ground, the line of title to a nation    until the land dies, the continent uninhabitable. That very subtlety of time between large and small Media note        people chasing glaciers in retreat up their valleys        and the speed... watched ice was speed made invisible, now—        its days and a few feet further away, a subtle collapse of time between large and our small human extinction.”

The eye is not filled with seeing, with only seeing, but with understanding the sight.

The long time of light about to become its flash we record as star

what if nothing moves in after the ocean what will that    absentee profit's      crackheads     look like what will they do to get it

Sunk in time, the footprint of life is death, the grave there is no step out of, the compost earth. The earth is the footprint of life.

our innocence in the process of discovering our ignorance     the triggers of its doings the guilts of its art     the wound and scar of our luminosity