Thursday, March 19, 2009

I keep myself from falling into knotted parts and try to grip what my hands can wrap around. I fix my bed before sleep often, and then I raise my hand to god in the middle of night. Like I praise something.
I trip into cavernous ruins, or daily run-ins, if you will. I do some calling, with fingers like whistles, to things I know exist somewhere. We start to write what we think we know. Extend that into talk like we mean something.
The only things we share are talk and write. No one sees knots anymore. We're all too careful.

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