The day was so long,

it took two and a half days

to finish it.

I discovered

sidewalks laugh

when you trip and

the house belly dances

late at night,

to the tune of white noise.

I’m rumbling sympathetically

in deep places like a bulldozer

aiming low, heavy, and strong.

There are pieces of me

on the moon

and on the mountain

and floating with salt in the sea.

I’m never complete

because I have bits of fluff

feathering birds’ nests

and stuck inside the railing

of a high-rise fire escape.

I search horizons for colors

to add to my fading eyes.

I listen intently to wind

to learn the oldest songs.

There are memories of me

in a displaced book and

foraging fingers.

I am nowhere special

and no one to hold tightly.

My tethers are loose

and I will fly most quietly.

A slide down an ordinary vine

into deep gardens of time and light.

‘What Is’ is not a contradiction

to what is imagined or never was;

it is in Being that a heart takes

the journey a soul cannot do alone,

so it is better with two.

A rising force making flesh

as irrelevant as paper is fleeting.

I’ve become an old lady

washing the universe,

oblivious to ensuing chaos

after the machine has begun to spin.

I’m spinning too, in my seat,

with uneven breaths and far-flung dreams

that look like heaven

and smell like soap.

I’ve become what I’ve become

and there’s no taking back

a single sinking/rising moment

before skin changed shape

and dark things began to grow on the mind.

A little daydreaming

makes for fantastic spot remover.

There’s cheese and an apple

and the air is very strange,

like the sweet smell of sheets

that should have been changed

weeks ago but time got away

and now, only smoke can cover

the ill effects of losing a body

because you don’t need to see

to feel the air rushing by

and know the end of the path

is upon you.