aesthetics intelligence (the other AI)

throughout the afternoon I watched them there,

snow fairies falling, falling on spring. 

whirling to melt in the very wet marsh desert

or to linger on the creosote bush and sand verbena blooms.

a moment longer on the green, fighting for space supremacy,

geothermal bathing whites can not see the star that looms.

staring out violet-red Rothko windows, I sat in that rarified room

absorbed in a vanilla bibliosmia fragrance dogeared at Moe’s. 

surrounded by rectangle dramas and a preoccupation with death,

death writes the code of life with one drop of hope.

breathe memory. make the inevitable obvious. wiggle your toes.

trees walk, mushrooms talk shifting hardiness zones, although the

Daedalus trees were planted before leaving the Colorado desert.

art is what you leave out. remake, redo, embrace the pronoia. 

Icarus is in the Helios grove giving off incremental vibes.

bellows smoking pot blowing on hexagonal hives…

honey, we do not have to tear it all down to build again.

to change the world, imagine. under shade and shame, strive

with tension and sensuality as essentials. 

sense-making landed in this heap.

heavy thoughts turned to novelty, the engine of life.

Cassandras do not need to caution me in the dark forest and creep.

stay out of the self-help motivational aisle, dyed hair 

with filters on filters. beauty hijacked, bleached, and tweaked.

out-influencing the influencers. behold the power of the third sister.

the book braid reading ribbon marker falls to the floor.

we met under an atmospheric river of possibilities.

over frozen mountains to valleys of lilies,

contemplating futures. so much will cease to exist

freeing time. inhale, exhale do not idle.

no truckers, no surgeons, hang the robe on the door.

you are what you do. master something, anything.

upstreaming, come out of the redwoods. 

dance with his timeless orchids and endure the painful contractions

and metapatterns. birthing aeon at the end of time.

polychronic quantum high fidelity larks,

what can humans do? how was it done? mark the marks,

finite, infinite game theory, the great decomplexification

leaves space for grace in radical shared outcomes.

rejoin, captivate with aesthetics intelligence,

the other AI. sunshine beats down on a good nine, 

with the best score, you should leave before it gets epic. 

we are coming unglued, unstuck in time. 

wit and play for the human element. benign

in this new biosphere with ephemeral and chance ever long, 

measure portions carefully. be strong. 

everyone heard Howl drowning out the owl

of deception…underground tectonic shift, 

in the race to the bottom annihilation, dilemma

on top of dilemma muddled in the moloch. 

pearls and petals of wisdom, he loves me, he loves me not.

forgotten waves of memories crumble prime.

and suddenly my thoughts turned to you,

born at the wrong end of time.

layered but far from all four seasons in one day.

hand-in-hand, footprints in the sand,

we delight in sea fairies in the seaspray.

a rose nautilus washes ashore. a toroidal ring

on water. it dares you to say, all the answers are written in nature,

a part of the same ubiquitous music of the spheres that build

harmony into atoms, molecules, crystals, shells, stars, and galaxies.

the one verse, the sequence that makes everything sing. 

fall in love with all the dimensions of being again,

above and beyond. lift the spirit. be full.

rouse the imagination. delight in the sensorial experience. 

you almost sang that and it was beautiful.