Wednesday, March 14, 2012

On a Street in Oakland

So beautiful. Tiny entropy. The movement constant, yet intermittent. Indicating measurable rhythm. Yet wholly non-human. A resonance, I guess. An echo, a bounce-back. No delay. Immediate. Raindrops on the faces of leaves, windshields, neglected pets. Tiny backyards, paved to perfection. Trees dead, cut down and mulched into a moldering pile in the corner. Tiny entropy. A stream simply happening taking form in motion on the blacktop. Hiding. Another day. Finally rain, but ugh, rain. The gray clouds push against the gray sky, empty of reflection. Defused radiance seeming cold from this distance, here on the ground. Dry inside, without a working shower. Tiny entropy. Evidence of it. So beautiful at times. When you cannot smell it. With the eyes, over and over. Cracks and fissures. Peeling. Nature continuing. With or without us. Not static. Ecstatic. Generative, or at least indicative of vectored motion. Built out of ideas fused to wires strung between tapering wooden poles sunk into cement and concrete, next to the paved street streaming with rain a silver ribbon taking the shape of unseen notation. So beautiful.

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