Whoever said elective
suffering is a joy
It feels more like The Rotor ride
at the fairgrounds, a circular room
spinning, where you pick
a spot on the wall, let your body adapt.
What kind of person chooses this? And the glaciers,
have a say in their own melting.
It’s hard not to compare experiences: Content. Focused facts.
Heart-based, self-inflicted research. Hash Tags. Tweets.
Out here the sun burns longer. Collapse & change
pressurizes the funnel of air in the space between mountain top
choss & the atmosphere. Wind wears down millimeters, each second
not of joy, but particles, entire sections of impervious rock disappear
flitting, circling the door to heaven, while sugar dissolves
into the funnel cake’s fatty dough,
& ice transforms to air, so what stands
tall is flattened.