And where do you say we start
to shake ourselves of our memories and reason?
To greet the bewildered road with our soggy
and aimless feet.
With eyes streaming,
now downcast from the round sky,
fingering the small hole at the centre of all the thinness.
You look something like my brother, in the nose.
But perhaps I told you that already.
Perhaps it doesn’t matter either way.
It all folds, creases at the ear
or approximation of
a rough middle.
When did you say you were arriving?
Spreading fire, the cave
Related Blogposts
In Sisters Hope Home, I was inside a nervous system larger than me, inside another living organism. The walls were alive, embracing me. We, our bodies, were part of the circuits and metabolism of the Home. How I miss it, having returned to the illusion of being an individual, leading…
7 døgn siden jeg gik ind og ud. Oplevelsen sidder som en lille lomme af energi i mit bryst. Et lille regnbuefarvet egern der vil løbe rundt. Og putter sig op af hjertet når jeg sover. Jeres vision berører mig. Halleluja for en moderne skole/reformation af skolesystemet og opgør med…