This month I was going to say something about the meaning of life but I lost my notes.
So, instead, here’s an ode to wine. After all, Christmas comes but once a year.
I think of nights we harvested the grapes.
Under a copper moon we go forth with our baskets.
Our feet are planted on the earth
the earth is in the wine
the moon is in the wine
we reach up strip down the vines
the grapes fall heavy into our baskets
we taste the earth we taste the moon
in reaching for the grapes we are reaching for the
why not the moon?
why not the stars?
why not the galaxies?
why not somewhere a hundred million light years
a parallel universe and someone in that parallel
one hundred million light years away
intoxicated as I on the night and the nose of
also moon tripping
someone like me or more likely
not like me
someone with a head the size of a pea
a green pea
someone with a brain a speck on a head the size of
and that brain which may be quite different
from what we think of as a brain
and would almost certainly be
that brain a speck on a head the size of a pea
throbs with condensed energy
throbs faster and faster until it explodes
explodes its energy into space
and a million more planets and suns and moons
and shooting stars
a hundred million light years away
for an instant
not even an instant
a time so minuscule it cannot be measured
hanging by my toes
from this planet earth
thank you wine
for allowing me this trip, this journey to the stars
I was so tired of being trapped in my neural network