Pick an object, any object,
something shaped like an orange,
might be an orange, but that’s
not what matters. The thing itself–
shells, smooth against sand,
keep stepping on it, like you step
away, it will eventually sink,
like everything else,..

Sage bundles in hand, smudge
away everything that’s made
you feel anything, smudge away
that part of yourself, the part
that doesn’t need tapping into,
no one said you have to open
every door. Keeping them closed
keeps the good smoke in, keeps
the claws, sharp remains out…


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