Somewhere between
Sanatorium and Paradise
it hit me -          
                             how utterly free
                            we are, so free
               it's almost offensive.

Caving and leaking,
I bundle trust and decision
at my side        
                            (if only I were
    capable of artless rhythm,
               of give and take).

For Freedom breeds
athleticism          
                            (listless,
     its muscles atrophy
the gauging of times
           and seasons,

the measure of pass and stow;

                              slacken the meter
                 of intention and desire
to pool and settle as they grow.