Friday, March 12, 2021

Arrangement



I am buttoned tight inside a world
made mostly of sounds and words
for my name will soon get forgotten

you may add small tears to the sea,
to the wind, all the liminal seasons
don't wear out my name with wails

I started my own tribe of wanderers 
who'll need my name for new ways,
promises, festivals, and kindnesses

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prayer for a future tide

hollows show with stars in sequence all these years  paralyzed only by the possibility of time... if this world were mine * we'd follow ...