2042
6.215
3.viii.25
not even the sun where
ekphrastic for Courbet’s 1869 ‘l’immensité’
I like the depictions of nothing
of no one, of just what you see
what’s there in front of your eyes
weather, and more coming
and I believe there was weather before
none of it means a thing
I like the roll up of waves
the absent sun’s effects
neither at sea
in a world that seems to come before
clouds lit with as by whim
for how we come
things may well wash up
pay them no attention
focus on so much time elapsed
outside of the mirror
you’re the population
far removed from the moment
this is how we’re here
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