To You
that was it.
So our We-space ends.
I sit
with the rest,
trying to make sense.
Questions
to the World.
Questions to myself
( empty
all dried up
hanging in thin air
like dropped
suspended
frozen, left behind )
From here:
Where to turn…
How… CAN I connect?
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Closing my eyes and drifting off into the dream of myself I considered carefully my potential body, its posture, flesh and gaze. Sister said: Your poetic self is all about expansion, and yes, I agree, but I also feel it is as much about exclusion. Exclusion of the debris that…