propelling the day


I’ve come untethered
Three days lost and out of sorts
Now the correction

Sitting on the train
The snow blows blinding outside
Heavy wet and sad

The Wailers’ singles in my ears
Provide the syncopation
Propelling the day

On the balcony
In yellow afternoon light
A thrush in the snow

Pink skies cede to blue
Melted snow transformed to ice

West, the dream maker bicycles
For all ages a unique mile
On fingertips

“I write all the things I need on the bottom
of my tennis shoes. I say, Let’s walk together.”

— Ada Limón / “Sharks in the Rivers”

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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