Do you mean
that you see a long hallway
a subway platform
A place to sit beside a tender door
and place your tired head upon it’s warm shoulder?

Do you mean that you’re
waiting for a train,
Casually prepared
to let someone tie your shoes?

You’ve always needed help getting dressed, so why not let them slip you into something more comfortable.

If all that comes from this
is that my fire is lit
I will call it a gift
and lay it down in the duff
to be sprinkled with falling berries and pressed deeper into the welcoming soil
by so many hooves

I am from the river
a birds eye view will see a brown, heavy snake
and getting closer,
you’ll smell my mothers tainted blood.

I am from a bright and hazy morning
rough grass on my back
my skin slicked with atmospheric oil
and every decomposing thing

I am from the nest
where mold grows
and tiny toys rest on shelves
lined up to proclaim the living
and the barely hanging-on

the rocking ship
the stilted legs
the ripped concrete
the sweet scent of night

my soul, a silver bubble
risen from her and carried
a thousand miles north into the grey and dusty places
you can’t see from below

I am given
to the dry and clean day-break
the imposing land who sees you
who sees you and sees you and never stops watching.
the eyes of my neighbors, all the same and silent.

each footstep
an ask
and a quiet permission given
quiet quiet quiet quiet
and a sense of sharp eyes

A day fallen from my hands
losing time
not knowing where to
when just before I had been a body atop two stable feet
planted on the soft ground, covered in juniper leaves

From a cloth bag
you placed
a pushing-tool in my hand
a small alien object, a sharp walnut, a thought expanding
it asked me to consider
the pain that can be bathed in endlessly
the stone door lifted too easily
the wilting of everything
the veil of hideous ego
which allows me only so far

I am ill equipped
tender, exhausted by years of effort
I cry for dullness and pull her over my eyes
Protect me from my own habit
of tying knots and shredding paper
I am hungry for the honing of energy with purpose
I seek to create and
I am emptied out

Your lost symbol
heavy hammer
dropped anchor in my center.

I entered this time through a curved bow
a skinny young tree bent over
in a forest
on an island
I called it my doorway and when I moved through it, all was changed

dullness leave me now, let me call other names
let me conjure the exit
let me take a thin blade and slice the grey cloth

now I cast my doorway
I draw my sanctuary
it’s my duty to enter the in-between space

and when I step out to face the mountain
and the air is distant
and my feet are wrapped in plastic
and my eyes are tiny dark bowls
I ask my silver sister
to let me absorb her
and as always she responds, exactly this:

You are the creator and the created
the eyes and the blindfold
the hand that holds the heart