lives on the cusp of breaking
anything delicate and frail
without room to bend
is just awaiting a moment
today next week next month
grandma is already broken
as I watch her get up
and walk
to the ringing phone
today the clouds are ice flows in an artic blue ocean steppingstones my mind skips over trying not to fall in not as slow as a polar bear would creep across the sky hunting for its thing in another wo
day is obstacles duties hustle mental mazes sensual skirmishes it is here and now front and center talk and listen running with the light hiding in shadow night is full of emptiness days of swallowe
if you’re able-bodied on a boat with oars would you help paddle to reach land? this world is a sinking ship desperate to find safe harbor and frankly I doubt we’ll make it without all hands on deck ba