from the distance

a fine mess we have here
a course reductive state
absolute infinity
polite reminders

dance
blinded pull
to follow

leaves of a palm
exact space
gaps

floundering
pools of predictive
nonchalance

does it hurt when you bow to convention?
spin of the wind
cry of a bird

spin of a bird
cry of the wind

a fulcrum never needs patience
plot
convoluted perchance

often it all passes me by
nobody waves
tension surfacing

the outside is lonely
but it’s not loneliness

sometimes i walk into a room and forget why i’m there
sometimes lose things
tell myself i need to put things away
never do it
sometimes i forget
others believe in patterns

coarsely reductive
fine mess
in the delving….

i come up on other sides
grave plans
plotted outcomes

simplicity laughs
i say no
my vision is broken

retreat is many things
sometimes i only listen to why someone is speaking
sometimes i look at the sky and don’t feel small

image

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