Postharvest Preservation of Perishables via Temporal Suspension


stop time and nothing rots


Picture a box,

not a cardboard box or a metal box or a wooden box:

a box of white lines on a green chalkboard,

and imaginary box of three dimensions.

In this box there isn’t a cat,

or a sheep,

wind, rain or sky,

matter or energy,

particles or waves,

no mechanisms,

there isn’t anything: nothing.

Most important, there is no time.

You can’t open the box.

You can’t look in the box.

but we made the box,

and we know there is no time.

My math isn’t very good.

I can add and subtract

with a little bit of effort:

multiply and divide.

So I can’t come up

with the elaborate formula

to measure the lack of time.

The only thing I have to measure it with

is my imagination.


first posted on, 2015, taken from “Some Notes on 21st Century Sorcery”.




About johnsmithiiimxiii

John Smith, IIMXIII is the avatar of an award winning poet, artist, etc. who still lives in the Palouse country of the Pacific NW. He has not received much notice with his prose . . . but as his avatar, I hope that he keeps plugging along.

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