a city of small rooms lit at night bodies as mass yet thin walled apart.

the emergency is now

be still where you stand. the circle of ownership fades as everything else resumes its place.

let your hand find the task, be led by the push of your roving dreams.

in this granular stretch i hold object permanence for those that are gone.

from around the house i collect the ticks, stray signs of life well lived, fuel for the tank.

unlikely elements congregate, i'm reading faces for alignment, where is it i fit in?

dismantle the straight-jacket and radiate.

some days are sent to carry you over the humps of life.

the dark is rich, gives shades of sensing, form is felt without, felt within. thought is given no bounds.

we pass the point of no return, each generation deaf to the landslide.

pull up the blanket, rest the flatland in sleep.

remnants, not much, a pram, a commode, a take out. skipped at the old peoples home closing it's doors for the last time.

under the beech tree we toured the solar system, you named the planets, and i dreamed the adventurers.

borrow all you need, beg for clemancy bend to the wind. begin.

a neat cut, a token tip riding the vernacular, cover for the morass, the steady shame.

you did good, yet on the walk home, the shine slipped away.

half way buried by lived life.

solar glare through an open rib cage.

to what do i tie the end of my line, stay, the morning says give me your attention.