Circumspeculated

  a memoir   by   shaun lawton 

  in our house growing up we never kill crickets. its considered real bad luck. today there are legion who won't harm a spider. and will carry them outside to freedom. theyve no idea at all the order of Aranea keeps us all under its thrall. But I am here to tell you we are the prisoners within its walls. Wondering about the turn of events we are all bound up in together. Some think time to be an illusion they are not even close. Face it reality is the illusion it makes no difference. Since we each create our own reality these all become compounded together and while we revel in the experience sharing the moment our throbbing collective species should not be considered an organism but rather more like a gathering storm. 

   in our house nestled amid the mist wreathed pines of the Carbonales Valley, I had an owl named Zachary and two ocelots, named Sir Ivanhoe & Lancelot. I even had a deer named Bambi. A pack of starved feral dogs, all formerly domesticated breeds like Shepherds and Cocker Spaniels, fell in after dark and ripped the three deer family apart. I remember the large black tarantulas that would creep out from under floor boards and doors. I am done writing here to enrich the fortunes of no one. The only living nutrients breathed into the universe remain our own broken down components long fated to decompose into the compost heap of an ever thriving history mystery her story your story it's all the same damn story man 

  we each grew up in a spaghetti can tossed aside from the window of a moving van speeding up as it approaches the green lights nevermind with the analogies we're being ushered into a new century now its more important than ever to try and wake up to civic duty and here's the catch if we don't do it ourselves no one will. In our house out in the woods along the mountainside amid the thistle of the dreaming dragon, we slept out on the porch in the Caribbean wind and counted the shooting stars across the Milky Way.