I lay my head
Down.
I lay my head on mountains of thought and unwoven material.
It weaves itself together and apart in my dreams.
In knots.

I lay my head on uneven, fragile branches and my ankles hang across into the air.

I lay my head down on rough, open water
And icy memories lap at my closed eyelids and frost over my sight.

I lay my head across your wrists and I try to memorize your pulse and the hum of your life
Because it sounds so different from mine.
I lay my head down on the sound of bumble bees and honey.
I can the smell the sunburn and it echoes on the shell of my ear.
I can hear the ocean.

I lay my head down on railroad tracks and my thoughts go loud and flat.
They stretch themselves out into silk.
They loop and strand themselves together and now I think a spiderweb.
I am very glad that I am not afraid of spiders.

I lay my head
Down.
I lay my head across the wings of a bird.
We move the sky and the world falls over itself beneath us
Again and Again.

I am wearing spider silk and birch bark.
There is ice in my thoughts
Even though they are not frozen.
For the first time I can hear honey and bumble bees in my blood
And as I hold my wrists to my ears I can’t help but thinking.

I lay my head down on the Idea of Creation.
Down
And I rest.