Jake Platt
ETERNAL RETURN
When there is no snow to melt in spring
I will be as incorporeal as the precipitation that has failed to fall
spread out on the floor of my recollections and desires
enacting all versions of myself simultaneously
I’ve managed to flip time on its infinite side
The temporal does not run not on the temporals terms
but I am trying to meet it on them
There is a tarp mangled around branches in Illinois,
the sculpture Morris never made
There is a green Mercury Sable driving down Route 93
in Nevada in November of 15’
There is a man smoking a cigarette on a balcony in Arkansas
leaning against a wall but wishing to crumple into himself
in an attempt to take up the smallest amount of space possible
Mother nature is the paragon of a sculptress
I know she will do with these things as she sees fit
There are abandoned buildings in Santa Rosa, NM
when it’s 67 degrees and sunny
There is a breeze in the desert that blows old dust over old dust,
just like everywhere else
There are overturned semis in Nebraska and Texas
in the snow and late at night
There is equidistant trash in the grass just outside of the Phillips 66
where dogs run to spite John Divola
She has already begun