sometimes I just wish the weather would shift gears— returning long
forgotten memories— tossed coins in well and something happens—
the chill of you th returns (with thoughts and eyes upon)—
the sound of fall -in leaves- crunch beneath me— feet on long walks home
with feathers— tripping on cracks in concrete image s of pools
and tiny streams— making their way from drops of clouds— to paths— to
see -all- leading to and from pieces of -me- a perfect tapestry
interwove in— constant battle of staying together and
making art of this war as I fight for my rite to come undone—
I am the crashing motion of oceans reign upon her shore—
in constant acts of coming undone due to wishful shifts in whether—
I am the pitter-patter movement of oceans rain upon her floor—
in constant acts of coming undone and sewing self back together—
