the physics
of sound in fog;
a sense of muffling
today, my skin doesn’t fit
and the air is rubbing me
the wrong way
I feel a willful nonchalance
about time and direction
-a relief after chasing them so long
a settling of hums in the trees
as we forget flight awhile
and look to what makes a home
not knowing where to go
or who to be or what to do next
is a sixth dimension problem
at the end of things
-if there are endings-
we are One in the Fog
The Word Rummager 
Leave a comment