Words

truths

truths

truths hand themselves ruthlessly to the waiting and i stood before you with a large reed basket empty in my arms

april

april

this season is hard to leave creeps back with its microbes and chrytatine hand to layer itself shimmery this morning on tender growth, dark soil. by four-thirty, the sun not yet pulling at the dark resting barely warm against my sleeved arms bare trees pressing 

who will not

who will not

dusk falls on the highway earlier than it will for another year end meets beginning hay fields tugging windows, open space kaleidoscope green velocity freedom three days gone to judicial duties these granite shoes full of swelling sadness rendered immobile – the imperfect – for 

but older

but older

miracle the aging brain individual mind patterns congealing a routine– a soft cheese in whey – and comfort, conditioning maturing feels dense, definitive and we are none the wiser thinking we masterour neural pathways. the blunt edge of new passes soft through mapswe are but 

1/23/2014 Commute

1/23/2014 Commute

I cannot slow down the movement from one place to another my journey and others just dashes and dots starts and stops a blue line map I am a shuttle cock erupting, then draggy wobble fitted flexible next to moms and suits adolescents sprung with 

acknowledging that the song enters of its own volition

acknowledging that the song enters of its own volition

each morning, as consciousness filters its way through the warm sand of sleep, limbs and torso loosely feeling sheets’ texture, the weight of the mattress. there is an incomparable experience of both here-ness and there-ness, an existence governed by physical science – the mechanical snap 

rocking

rocking

lightness momentarily descends, lifting me under the arms with the crook of its elbows. flat plane of the floor through my shoes and the rocking but not the weight of my skin, my muscles, my organs, my breath. cradle my bones gently in thick, sturdy 

Post ID: 297

the path worn firm each step step memory stretched fingers break air and put soft sound to it fitting the hands like cotton gloves; a parting to move against morning light fits and throws leaf shapes to weighted wall a barrier to roaming sheep built