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the endurance of unreality |
the endurance of unreality cadences, but never truly ends. my back is twisted and bent, some accident when i was younger and the blue sky says "i am good" and the black sky says "i am a mystery" and the gray sky says "i'm going to rain so hard on you" and my back aches more intensely with the gray sky. my bones or my muscles i'm not sure, but something gets me. we have a garden we have a harvest we have a clothes line to dry our wet things and we have a body that takes us through the fields and we can hear the sparrow call and cry out our eyes like a rainforest and laugh out our mouths like a storm and sing from our guts and bedrock under our bones bracing us for the truth |