possibly 32nd St. in September

the small space
between your life and mine
is full with all the world
and all of time

all the TV channels' blare
can't break the silence

the night is between us
the days stand in our way
rivers of time

a few evenings ago
as I sat in the garden
contemplating the space
between two knots in the wooden fence
I realised
that bliss is accessible
just there
just grab it

and then what?
then hewing wood and carrying water
the falling towers
and Georgie's New War.

the small space between us
is a river of time
and all the world 's a Jumping Jack
waving from oblivion
to our separate soul illusion

down on 32nd Street
the mundane flows on forever
papa's got a brand new bag
and Shakespeare's in the alley
the space between us seeks resolution
the On-Going Cosmic Rut fills all space and time

I'm in the garden talking to the spiders
and all the channels blare