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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 this
to me
to here
to now
and 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 you

to you
to you
like a beat
to you
to you
like a rhythm… that’s blue
to you
to you

do i recognize these words even as i write them?
that bird fluttering by… that’s me
i’m over this place

this forest
this tree
over 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 her

this bird
i command her
this bird
i tell her
i fell for her
and she drops me in a new wood
just like the old wood
no room for me in its heart