I just wanted to tell you
Not that it’s important or world-shattering
Or even very interesting,
Seems when I look at the coffee table
Or even my dirty tennis shoes or my cat
I see them as energy not things
Not things but energy
Clumps of it, bumps of it, just energy
Compacted, real tight, into shapes.
And some are living and some of them are dead
Some never living and some never dead
Which only means some move and some never have.
But it’s all the same, energy,
Gas, grass, or crevasse,
It’s just the amount of the solidness
That makes them hard, or soft,
Or insubstantial air.
They say the world is divided
Into energy and matter,
But can you tell me the difference?
Solidness is one thing, but
The cool thing is the edges.
That’s where everything bunches up,
All the energy,
And pretends to be different,
You can see those edges, those surfaces,
But they don’t fool me.
My tennis shoes, the coffee table, the cat,
Have surfaces —
But they don’t fool me,
I know those surfaces
For what they are.
Clouds of clustered energy, a fictional matter,
I see their parts flowing, into the air,
Into one other slowly
and back again.
For a while they surround something else, mingle with it,
And then they move on.
It’s all the same, inside and out,
He said, and smiled.
Energy – hard, soft, visible, invisible, intermixing,
The cat, the coffee table, my dirty tennis shoes.
And the air.