Her. Him.
Hurting
Herding
Her team
Burnt him
Turning
Her win

Him. Her.
Winter
Hint where
Here, there
He'd dare
In her
Him. Self.

Picking up wool with your needles
A long straight line  turns into a sweater
Change
The rule is that we move towards the unknown
Or away from it
Which one do you want it to be

Hatred rises from below
Reaching the maximum ability of vague comprehension
It starts and ends in the same moment
I think
I can imagine myself without a final point in this Cosmos
Knitting myself out of
the dimension I was destined for
is futile

All understanding: science,
religion,
merchandisable forms of expression,
art, philosophy
manipulates a piece of us but
I am left devastated
No amount of material will make a sweater thick enough
to keep out the universal cold

I pull apart the heavy drapes of darkness
Wading through thick musky flower scent
Leftover heat rising from the ground up
While shadows close snugly right behind

Two fat ladies pedal away in lycra
In this stillness I could hear them from afar
Their bikes seem absurdly small underneath them.
And I think:
If we're all alone together: then none of us are.