Suds

there was nothing calculated
about the way I left polite company behind
and sought out the rudeness of strangers

it was like cultivating a tree fungus
by not watering my houseplants
a totem or token at best

a stubborn reaction to the premise of oblivion
an unconscious acknowledgement
of the promise of oblivion

but consciousness matters
at least as much as aboriginal dream-time
an active process requires a willing participant

if a tree has fallen
and I have not considered that tree
am I no longer of the same world?

the complexity of the immediate situation
creates a distracting bubble
figure separates from ground

things lose their identity
without relation to one another
yet how can they not be related?