Wednesday, April 27, 2016

You don’t get credit for living


Spaces are opening around me and I have my head down, watching my feet make prints in the snow, sliding in the mud, watching the trail of discard behind me.
I am not running, but I am rushing. Hollow, and dull, the ideas come they just don’t thicken.
I need arrowroot, cornstarch, cream of tartar, flour. Something to gum up, give weight to my mass.

She rolls and I quiver.

I want to sit quietly and work reverently.

Not yet.
Not yet.



Don’t give up yet or it won’t count. 

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