Talent severnspoon

Your laugh is for the wrong room

Sieves clatter clogged not yet with rust but bits of food, fragments of ideas that will not wash away. Not yet with rust the day dawns dinghy with a million more flecks of dust, a myriad of tiny memes hung up on each other like real thoughts to bring back into the earth what was born there. Sieves clatter clogged, again before the rust of generations breaks down all things to base shapes excited by chemicals, dull matters for the stars. The day dawns dinghy with words, endless thoughts dissecting each other, sand rolling down an incline towards stabler ground. One day all things fall enough to one side or the other through intricate associations. Metadata, the truth of things writ large on a long scroll, beauty encoded from reach, everything parsed factual. Whims hang tagged behind a password: we people with our brief histories who think ourselves worth remembering. — All that is vast remains on the shore. Hands spread as far, a body pressed to the wind will not hold enough of it to measure anything.