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 …

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 …

a dampened early walk to the bus just boots on frosty grass, night lifting slowly from ground a crocodile blinking its dewy eye in the still cold air before me at the corner is one car hinged on its side, another swept wide and sideways …

Our days stuffed, decision’s entitled palm a wind against our forward movement. Never tremory or apologetic but expectant, present like our own mirrored faces flipped. We answer most often without a hesitating thought, splitting seconds and significance with our guts. And those rare moments when …

Perfect equilibrium aloft in a tank expansive and ordinary basketball an urban outpost wrapped in physics and ritual. My orbiting matrona sieving sight from me most elegant liar to make me believe otherwise I want to watch you sleeping so shallowly in your watery hold …