where I am now, it is fall. I am feeling full with so many lives, old and new, jostling against each other. there is too much to make sense of, and no time to do it in -- time wants different things from me, wants me to make and read and move swiftly, slicing through the viscous air;
I cannot do it though, I plan and plan but do not know where the time goes, I inch viscously through air and arrive at the same places again, try to gather moments and maple leaves, count the colours the trees are exploding in (carmine, blood blush, ochre, terracotta, lime, chartreuse, gold), get work done in time even though it is work that gets done outside of time.
I am happy to be here. slowly I will move the right way. now that poems are real work, it is hard to share them here for the quick slick sharing of the internet. I want to hold on now to the poems, stay with them, comb them and sand them, share them with all the gentle people around who read them kindly, and work on them until they shine (in blood blush, gold).
here are some words if you are here for the words. some days I will end up writing here, sharing some strange pale fragment of my life that fits nowhere else. if you are somewhere, across a sea, you can hear me. hold me kindly. I am trying to learn and be