Threads are scattered across my lap. How long have I lain cross this table? Tic Tic the Clock in the back of my head –
I have a song of sorrow in my heart. you only know. The first born light today shines on me. while I suffer notes of
Do I keep things out? Or in? I cannot tell. I would not say. Forged bars are where doors would compose an opening.
My head is humming. Drumming. I am a weed in the wind. Pummeled and blown about, Thoughts of spreading, flying to another….where? And rooting there.