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skipping short term memory
focus on each and every sound
the earth sways beneath me as i write
it forms a poem
bubbling up from the deepest core of earth
the deepest core of humanity
and it has all come to thisto meand i wonder if i’ll recognize these scribblings later
the earth sways again
i wonder if she’s listening to me
to my heart
to that bird
to the world turning turning turning burning beneath our feet
i have to write
it wants me to write—
i wish i remembered cursive
the world just changes directions.
it pulled me pulled me pulled me to youto you
like a beat
like a rhythm… that’s blue
do i recognize these words even as i write them?
that bird fluttering by… that’s me
i’m over this placethis forestover it until we flit upon a new dreary home in need of…
another direction and she wants to hold my hand
no, not my hand
i demand herthis birdi command herthis birdi tell heri fell for herand she drops me in a new wood
just like the old wood
no room for me in its heart