How would I create the future?

Everyday I create the future.

How would I create the present?

I don't know. The present is given.

How would I create the past?

I lie, I deny, I hallucinate, I associate.

(Borges says he does not like to remember

things too often because each time

he just remembers the last time he remembered

and so gets further and further away.)

How would I paint death?

Death paints me.

How would I create death?

It's easy.

I eat the broccoli the lettuce,

I squash the ant,

dead cow sits on my dinner plate.

(Though I did not slit his or her throat

I have colluded.)

or

I might commit suicide

the ideal self-referential death

like a mobius strip, ode to Escher.

Or I stand by in silence as

thousands are massacred

by "my" government,

"my" social service agencies,

"my" neighbors.

(Using fear as my excuse,

eating my anger with my cow,

with my broccoli,

with my ant.)

How would I create life?

I would go hunting for joy

like hidden treasure,

a treasure hunt where the object

has not been described.

Joy, what does it look like?

What does it feel like?

What is the price?

What forest or prison does it dwell in?

Can I possess it, or must I give it away?

Is it like cloning or a perpetual motion machine:

you have joy and I can take it and you still have it,

so

I can have joy and you can take it and I can still have it.

Joy makes babies!

Is that not life?

(I contemplate being lost in joy. What a thought.)

Kaye Griffin (kaye@yak.net)