Days That Neither Ask Nor Explain
How
can this
feel so normal?
How
can everyday life
ever seem everyday?
I see, in thought,
at moon-length distance,
what the Integrity crew
of the Artemis mission saw
directly,
unmediated,
point-blank;
– what, long before that,
the exclusive Apollo assembly saw,
in the refinement of pure mechanics
I let imagination see
what these saw,
at moon-length distance
– and nothing
can ever again be called everyday
There stands a silent force
around the Earth,
seen at moon-length distance
I contemplate – without understanding –
the body I am,
with all its complex systems
still fundamentally unread;
the spirit-blown cadaver’s detour
toward the imitation
of the allegedly divine;
a clownlike image of God at eye level,
at moon-length distance,
yet nonetheless full of gravity & time
There stands a heavy silence
about the Earth,
at moon-length distance
There seems to stand a secret
about me
and my sense of moon-length distance;
an imagining
that grants me the ability
to feel the hovering weight of being
as pure suspension
deep down inside a Bösendorfer Imperial,
tuned by the esteemed Alfred Shabda Owens
Yes, to be interwoven at moon-length distance
within the open stillness the Earth hovers through,
keeps me attentive and peculiarly prepared
It feels like walking through a deserted fortress,
through all that has already been thought and discarded;
a desolate castle in a fairy tale
– but out here at moon-length distance
everything is black
that is not coursed through with light
standing still at 300,000 km/sec,
when the feeling of the everyday
feels like a grotesque unwillingness
within wavering fields of vision,
amid showers of language’s crackling interference
– yet the greatness, the inevitable, daily greatness,
consists in the everydayness of our everyday lives,
as we carry out our tasks,
our bareback chores, in everydaynesses,
fundamentally identical
to the doings of insects & fish,
in group & flock, in herd & swarm,
together and separately,
within the great, unavoidable everydayness
that enables us
to see ourselves,
both at moon-length distance
and from the perspective of the ladybug
within the great silent force
that neither asks nor explains
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
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Written on 2026-05-14 at 11:57
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