page 8

standing, Your eyes, on top of stairs.
i feel relief.

sitting, Your eyes, when in a chair.
i feel...

this skin screams at the equator.

i would rather cease to a thousand fire ants
eating me

than look in Your meadows.

make me a well,
so that i will always be looking up.


:::
go inside;
seeds are not found outside of fruit.

inside
resides a gardener with all the tools needed

for growth.

do this, and someday,
there will be farmer's market

in your soul.


:::


I stumble, I walk a little crooked, I try to be tall.
Oh, pshh, don't help me! I got this.

How could I write this silly me why do I try to
this isss silly. Did I say that already? I did, oh well.

No I promise, I am just fine. Arrow straight. That's me!!

No need to help me. My clarity is clearer than clear can be.
No water please. I drink that in my sleep. What? In my sleep?

What am I saying? Really ok? I'm ok. I promise.

(apologies for how i was last evening. my tolerance is low.
i am still a beginner in this soul place.

alcohol is fermented falsehood next to this drunkenness.)



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