as things recede in time
they become less real
and whatever you thought would
be enough is not. and
whatever you thought
would be enough to get
you by -

things become aligned to center
as they recede in time
composed of more air
lighter
(heavier)
less resistance bleeds
to more veins
and the explosion of
numbers diminishing becomes
an expected thing.

(summer samba)

still,
tears roll down my cheeks
for you.

crazy lady on a bike,
so pretty?
so pretty?!
then why so lonely,
crazy bike lady?

tell me the things
i need to know to
reverse this spell
of reflection | rejection

pretty is as
pretty does
and pretty does *nothing.

leaves move like people
in the corner of my eye
(advancing, retreating)

and i wonder why

i throw things into the world
like ***** of white hot light
why i can't just
dip my toes in
like the tips of the
willow branches
dancing in the water

i come with fire and heat
all in.

splashing wildly
trying desperately to be  a l i v e.

father
built of the finest stone
and breathing wood
my anchor
in rough waters
you do not let me fly
you do not let me drown
father
built of the softest down
and bluest eyes
my anchor
*my anchor