Let me loosen up, but not
too wide, who knows what’ll
come spilling out–that’s
why we’re all whipped to stone:
don’t let anything in or out
through insomniac mind rhythms.

Depression: good news for
someone you long for. Lilac
to hold on to, sunrays dipped
in humidity, or ash left
on the front porch waiting
for a breeze in the early morning

dew. We struggle with the idea
unsure what the definition of “home”
or “definition” is–all seaglass,
we leave the shoreline…
Some days remind me trouble
happens to everyone, while other
days remind me sunrise grows
less luminous with its arc,
more damp and shadowless


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