Thought Pasture

One Day At A Time One day at a time.  One breath at a time. And now the whole country,  The whole world really, is in on it. I feel frozen and fluid at the same time. One day at a time. How many dead? How many infected? How many ventilators? The days are all so different And yet so much the same Frozen again What is happening Fluid, what can i do? Is it possible to be in time and out of it at the same time Unstuck in time. Here I am sitting on a bed  While appearing in a video conference  And writing about this moment. Surreal has become real Suddenly a Picasso painting Or maybe more like Salvador Dali And time is melting All around me. In and around me. And I am not lost because there is no lost Only here and now And what that is, well I don’t know. Breathing again. Of course I was breathing all along And I had nothing to do  With the mechanics of that. I’ll just be. And I’ll be ok. ...

What Happens Next? What happens next? We just keep breathing. We just keep living. I’m going to have to stop eating ice cream Cake and whatever else i want to indulge in. Tighter pants. This has to stop. This uncertainty has to become the new normal And apples will replace turnovers. I feel completely calm with the confusion. Because we are all confused. No one really knows. So I keep breathing Walking the dogs Going to meetings, albeit online. Praying, laughing Stopping time and again wondering Who keeps changing the channel. That’s funny. Maybe we really are all actors With our Hour upon the stage.

What’s Going On What’s going on? I’m not sure What I do know is this is an odd time. Very odd. I’m thinking I am an astronaut Sitting in my tin can Disguised as a house In Barre Vermont. I am able to make contact Using something called zoom. When I was a youngster, I would say kid, But a kid is a baby goat. But when I was a baby goat There was a show called Zoom. And there was a girl called Maura on the show. She wasn’t me. I wonder where she went. I don’t really care, just a stray thought In my head in my tin can sitting In a wooden shell in Vermont. But the whole world has changed. And yet I drive down the street and it is still a street. But some invisible, is different. The invisible.  I feel like every day I wake up and ask  How Many Dead? Monty Python, remember, “Bring Out Your Dead” I’m not dead yet. It was funny. Now. Space Noise.