We never give much thought, Thinking we are standing, On solid ground every day, There is always something moving, Below our feet, over forty - one thousand, Earthquakes, in the year twenty - twenty That’s just in the U.S.A. Then if we think of all of the void spaces, Empty mines, caverns & caves… Many of us living above, under - ground holes, While the oceans, along our country’s east & west sides, Wash away, acres A year, with high tides, and waves.
The prime I’m in (cold file) grinds down the onslaught of the surf. Wet hands coerce her tidal politic: a love-sick shire of common knots, revolting, wretch assured.
Unleash the phantoms of the wistful world at bay from that optimal day when climbed I up the risers, capped to fortune, palme-d'essence, mindful hitch. You stitched the barrier between your absence and my glitch - upheld the cases made for fiery rhythms of romance, as echoes clattered in the apse of quiet towns’ pastoral grasp.
I’m sitting shameless in the offing of a while. Unseated: will my offspring smile at sunny landings on the peaceful shores of joy? Can such be relished by a boy? Or will his chains hold strong and anchor back to relapsed wrong? Can such be relished by a song and her soprano? played piano for the crowd, but filling one’s forever, wonder-loud?
light mist and heavy clouds it is fog that guides my way rivers and mountains will remain long after i am forgotten for i erode too sheltered in my quiet place i think of myself growing older, but more aware i have done so much i have done so little i would give it all to re-live one day with you late now, and night is deep and still i think myself foolish for even believing you've taken notice can you see through the fog? am i left here to stumble? blindly? if that is my fate i will not wear it well i will erode with the other forgotten and dream of the time when i was alive
I struggle to hold myself up (to a standard, to an ideal, of self-care, self-respect, and protection of heart) But this is a slide that I have no power over. This force that pulls me - (yes, this very idea has gravity) - This force is unrelenting, gnawing, sneaky, persistent, not intentional or malicious, simply inevitable. It is a slow erosion taking a mountain out to sea when I look, and a great landslide swiftly collapsing when I turn my back. Where once, I hung precariously, I was at least secured in a temporary equilibrium. But now just one cord snaps and I am swinging, falling, a safety net not yet woven.