Time's Gravity

Written by Aisha Sasha John

as ribbons,

blood rivulets from an epoch and every, and is windblown beyond where it begins. a person holds
the record in stillness.
the tree trunk wears its time in thickness
and is background, parallel. the trunk rhymes with time and
the record, collected, is quieted, infinitude
meets holding, there’s a central stillness, an attention, the record has a gravity:
time has a middle:
its middle is a person
inside a blueing hour from which a tangerine glow goes white cold
so as to know the sea of snow it mirrors.
the purpose of winter is bare candid ongoingness.
a moment finds itself as an image of
its own imagination in time, in time.
bark flakes as shards.