Saturday, November 3, 2007

november three

(response to november third... this time it's about eighty percent plagiarism. just word play.)


coming goes and going comes and in the process stopping and going annihilate each other and it’s like stop

breathe

and for a moment it’s like low tide with all it’s things that come in view like a wreck and too that you might

breathing

view it with compassion all its winter dark and papery flaking skins these things so fragile so cold so lightless and so ready to be shed all stuck up in cardboard boxes with dusty overlapping lids inside a room you’re scared to visit so you latched and padlocked the keys on a hook too high to reach and slant the blinds so no one sees but

breathing

you can see the sea with your eyes closed and you can always wait for low tide and you know it’s inevitable like the planets and for a moment

breathing

you smell earth and onions and you know that some simpler part of you is home and growing your own vegetables and playing in treehouses because you exist in every moment in time no wonder it’s hard to just

breathe

and smell the earth and all its things it’s whelming over me again this task we’re given

breathing

pulling out at each end while your belly rising falling

breathing

fingers pinched perhaps to focus energy while you drop into place and say a prayer of peace from whatever book or bible you believe whatever genesis to revelations your heart takes part in whatever

breathing

makes you flap like looking down on the street in your dreams or how your world can sometimes change just looking just outside your own front room like

breathing

how you move and still your mind and how this

breathing

let’s you play careful with fire so gently gently trapping blue and orange flames

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