this time backwards

[2am] the day pours in and pours out at once like the frame cannot hold

the assembled leftovers from the past 24 hours rush up - it's July: there are tennis matches on the radio and tv - the heat and the conversations about it, being hungry for half the day followed by cooking and the meal at the right moment

and when work was overwhelming and when it was enjoyable - there are too many factors to stack - there's a seemingly endless line of tasks. yet they are all balanced at once in this headache and are all found together in a wishpot, a collymarsh of thoughts that become feelings and transform back again via actions and out the door

the moment is full and empty with watering plants first thing, tennis commentary and walking when the sun was barely up and there was no one around, sat in the midday heat and now late and not sleeping

all's gathered, falling into and out of a moment both greater than could be enumerated and smaller than nothing