lost — yet again — like
the only thing I succeed
in is in failing

A strange, dense, heavy word.
Once, graceful and noble
or it seemed to be
until I used it too much.
I know that something fails,
that I’m losing its huge potential.

If I pronounce it aloud
it doesn’t shine anymore for me
in the tiny corners of my mind.
It lingered awkwardly, repeating
“I’m here!”.

The tangled threads
imposing new interpretations.
The materializing weight of sounds.
It's a bitter pill to swallow,
but I know the side effects.

The lightness of the feather
turns into a red brick.
When it hits me,
my inner calm ceases to exist.

I’m struggling to rationalize,
to be more tolerant.
And I just ask myself:
if I truly believe,
why do I say it?

The word so needed,
so loved,
in the silence,
in conviction,
in the presence of no absence.

Something authentic,
wasn’t it meant to be spoken?
So sinister…
it builds and destroys.

The word,

the idea

of




TRUST...

1+1+1
3
3-2
1+(1+1)
1+1(2)
2(2)
2x2
4
4/2
2+1+1
2+1(1-1)
2+1
2(1-1)
2

she crumbled,
                                   out of
the envelope & into
                               my palm

  dissolved into my fingers
in her own world breaking
                                         way

in there,where two magpie
sit                      cross-legged,
the air carries kismet like a
newborn                     crying
    at the very semblance
of the long      walk     away.

(only eight weeks later)

re enveloped,(no)O(bow)
so folded hemispherically;

flaking,    crumbing,    Love.
it is buoyant in its optimism

& kisses ideas      of sinking
Us,We are Love's ocean floor.