Luna Landings

The measure of immensity is a small step, just a footfall snagged by a tufted hole in the space-time fabric. The way you fall is the way you get out of your bed when the day is already too bright. All things fall upwards from the empty seed. The vastness of insignificance needs a Dollar Store magnifying glass, anything more expensive would only distort perception yet more. Ant hills climb up themselves’ perception is a rope trick. There is no such thing as a summer or winter moon yet we all know there is. The infinitesimal cannot be reckoned, but we feel it crawling, sense its self-propelled intelligence re-wiring our brains. A bloody nose drips on a moon rock a rock someone had forgotten to bring back. Space, like memory, is full of potholes. Beyond the mushroom cap, mind-spores sporadically fail to make clear connections - the immensity of what we then miss returns to space dust dust we leave boot-prints upon as we once again trip over ourselves.