Today i spend time with a child
watch their cartoons - their stuffed baby animals
their mixed race dolls, their female pilots
their pink fluffy bears
their coding of social reality
and wonder about the discourse of their time.
the generational ache of their era
that i know will be gazed at, spotted correctly, and
narrativized using the material i see today
as text.
or as whatever has analytical currency then.
i try to peer through my futuristic corneas
at the back of my eye,
where seers are supposed to
see the future,
their gaze aiming at their own minds,
try to look at todays material
with tomorrows hindight
but my eyes aren't in the future.
and what hasn't happened really cannot be told
and so we live as fools hoping to string
beads of sweat in a garland
that we can chant passing, as time goes
and our mind looks further and further back
trying to find roots
for something that was never a tree.