The tundra drips Wild West like bad cinematography in theaters emptied out like popcorn bags
Desolation finds me staying warm
My blood may be the only boiling hope in this land
Trails of DNA on old bandages asking someone to look at my scars to prove my time here
My time is measured with broken wind dial microphones
Screaming for AED support bands
Artificial shock therapy reminding me there is still time
That this life is not leaking moments of divided glory
This moment right now...
Will never happen again

I saw a tree today

In the arctic tundra

For the first time in four months.

It reminded me no matter what happens around you

You can always grow.

In seductions of ******
wisps of alarm, tongues fly
catching fire, their croaks
are red-headed matchsticks.

Intrepid hourly, the
blanketed white harassed
the appointed locum, the
cashmere buds of tobacco.

The open mouths adhere to
the King of Limbs, the
experimental corsages that
— bloom —
into existence.

There is a space between
all the noise where
my fetal poise can reside,

forever holding,
holding on,

forever holding,
holding on.