A word
with eight letters
which points
in all directions
at all times,
a zillion rubber arrows
traveling out from me
forming a sphere
of unfettered completeness.

There’s comfort
in it’s cold consistency
of Always, Forever and Everywhere;
where tomorrow
and a billion yesterdays
are still and always original,
where toast popping up
warm and crusty brown,
calling for butter
to melt into into it’s textures,
is always there
waiting to be eaten.

And time
does not pass
through an hourglass
but spins
back into itself
like a huge, pink gyroscope
floating in my heart,
telling me
I’ll never be dead
only scattered.

This empty moment
as I stare out the window,
is neither here nor there,
is full of every molecule
in history, is
a fresh Fudgesicle
which never melts,
which tastes like
orange jello
or caramel pudding
or any flavor I imagine.

When I feel infinite
I expand like a red balloon
to engulf my mother’s
birth and death
my grandpa’s pain
my sister’s spinning
clutch of daily strain.
I cover them all
with endless adoration
even though I may never
see them again.

My fear sits
in my body
but I fear it not,
for it is a tender baby
to be caressed
and held lightly aloft
by my big, bulging
garnet jello heart.

I flow into my seat
and ride in my jello car
around mountains which
melt in a few billion years.
I slip down glaciers
a mile every century
and crawl up on muddy
banks with amphibian feet.
I fly over seas which boil
and then cool to salty abysses.
I breath through tree leaves
and drip sap to the forest
floor, where I compost
and form the carbon
jewel sold at the diamond store.
I ride up through the atmosphere
on a thought full of helium
and burn in a second
before visiting Luna
as a magnificent crater
is bursted open
by a star chip flying in
from infinite space.
I rage from the magma
bold belches of earth,
over the molten
eras which brew at her core.

Lime yellow jello time
wiggles around
me, in my ears
and nose, tickly
movements back
and forth, always
here and there
and never far
from Andromeda
or the Pleiades
Sisters seven stars.

When I return to my seat
in front of this screen,
the sun’s long shadows
have tuned evening’s chord
down a notch to a purple melody.

I smile an infinite smile
and no one knows who I am
but they do know, they do!
If they could just see what I can.

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18 thoughts on “Infinity

  1. A kaleidoscope of images, Garnet. I’m not familiar with Jello, but there are some I think are great, the toast and butter image and the time and the hourglass image also. There are some strong lines as well: “There’s comfort in its cold consistency …”; “I’ll never be dead / only scattered” and, for example, “the sun’s long shadows / have tuned evening’s chord / down a notch to a purple melody.”

  2. Ken- kaleidoscope, what a great word. Why didn’t I think of it!.

    I’m still cleaning out the stream of consciousness flow. I’m not quite ready for the disciplined imagery of your poems. Jello has an amorphous quality which appealed to me, a childish innocence. Though I didn’t think of that before hand, perhaps that’s why it seemed right for this little trip.

    I’m not surprised you like the phrase “there’s comfort in its cold consistency” 🙂 (I hope it’s Ok to nudge you with a smile)

  3. Garnet
    Your poetry is so filled with images and thoughts that sometimes feel so raw to me. I’m tired and I come to read your lovely thoughts of infinity and that you will never be dead only scattered. There are so many layers to that phrase. I will think on that for a long time.

  4. Liz- Nice to have you visit. I think I feel most alive when the rawness is close to the surface. Happiness is more fragile that way, and more pure.

  5. From this poem I can see how unlimited your thinking is. I am envious. Perhaps in part because I am not a poet, or perhaps because my perspective is somehow limited….. I wonder why I don’t come up with ideas like yours. And you’re right, there is a strange comfort in infinity, in realizing the trivial nature of our concerns. All is well in infinity. Thank you for the melodic reminder.

  6. Garnet:

    I like how you fill up the empty moments with such wonderful contraries: Fudgesicle, orange jello, and caramel pudding. There’s a lot of tug and pull with these eight letters of Infinity. Eight letters, eight notes, an octave of images hitting just the right chords within us that makes what you write so easy to identify with. Thanks for stopping by. I appreciate your kind, insightful comments.

  7. I think I was drawn by the same things Ken was, especially the toast image and also this:

    “where tomorrow
    and a billion yesterdays
    are still and always original”

    which calls to mind concepts of quantum physics and that whole “time as a loop” theory and basically describes infinity as it continually happens but only for those whose view is not linear.

  8. Ned- I do think of the universe and time as a loop, and that the infinitely long expansions and contractions of the known universe are like the breaths of God.

  9. They all said it all already.

    Love the stream of consciousness feel of this – garnet jello! Does it come more perfect, or more original than that?

  10. Erin-Nice to see you. How do thing look over here through those sexy dark glasses of yours? Garnet jello is more wiggly than garnet rock.

  11. I love the idea of an infinite loop of buttered toast. I love toast. It seems it’s always the small pleasures that we wish we could have over and over, or maybe those are the kinds of delight we can most easily provide for ourselves consistently.

    Nice poem.

  12. Silvermoon- You’re the first one to pick up on that image. You reminded me how much I liked it. I may use it again. thank you.


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