Newness

Pretzel stomach
and long forgotten middle moments
Embracing the folds of air
between where I am
and where you want to be

The constant lack of consistency
Bright, unguarded purities
an envelope, a bill, a pillow
The stiffness of breath after a climb
into the cranberry reaches of my porcelain home
I descend underearth to regrow
and mold, or flourish
The twisted cliff of something else

Dreamwork

I take the tips of the world
and tie them together
(like taking out the garbage)
and then the oceans drain and spill onto my feet
and I fall backwards into space
enveloped by stars
until the sun is the smallest point of light
and, still holding the earth,
\my insides are out
and my brain floats like unravelled intestines
knotted cords of experience
amongst the most unfathomable age
tiny moments amidst ancient legacies

and I gently release the world
from my skeletal grasp
and it falls, floating until
(like pizza dough being thrown)
it flattens and unravels

and then, quicker than you'd imagine
it disappears...

The Friday After(noon)

Standing,
the snow helps the Earth to turn
Diagonal assistance

And for me,
it covers up all those things I want forgotten
At least for a while
the peace of purity descends
and I am enveloped in the thick white rain drops
Flying through the air with my feet on the ground
I look up and marvel

No matter what happens,
I can always be transported
Standing.

Listening to Horses

It's Okay,
Half of my(self) is less that Everything
Exteriority replaces the momentary lapse of reason,
-(or the beauty)
of a mesh veil covered face
Where sunlight still finds a home
Despite the attempts at disguise.
Maybe the mask is the mirror
the crystalline pond into which,
unaided,
(I gently lean forward)
I fall

and remove the half to uncovered the w(hole),
we are I.