Leaving a bread-crumb trail not so I might get back
there will be no return it’s impossible anyway
always different always changing cells dying and blood regenerating
365 days of solitude the world moving
around and about me but no longer not
in me. change of life’s trajectory by choice but also
by necessity. no slight thing staying buoyant for a lifetime
it takes no effort I’ve discovered for this route ends in dis
ease
it takes the mere state of being they speak so highly of in circles everywhere now a days with no real sense of what this means for it can not be told it has only to be lived.
everything about it is reward and there is no gluten intolerance.
I put my energy to materials; to touch of things even if the things come to exist only once I’ve touched them. better then even.
I will write with the cells of what has fallen away and I will
paint with the membrane of what I have torn through.
I will endure evenings for the mornings. Not the sunrise, but the knowing that it is coming right there always, on the horizon.