Crutches

I can not journey far, each step laden with effort so that some small, small distance makes bright pain and opportunity arc. Find a way to harness this opportunity, to make it more than something only possible... turn breath to life and light to vision. It is hard beyond explanation. I have made myself desperate with the wait for understanding, even though I have known all along that understanding is not possible; language is not telepathy; the well can not imagine the unwell; you can not see my suffering- I can not see yours... and, more- to have fallen ill within the years of a usual drift and separation, oh. In circles close, and in those, larger, bounded by political and broader social curves, I am nearing the edge- am becoming truly peripheral. Not by choice. That is what must be understood. Not by choice.

Yet.

Despite the pain and sickness I feel myself becoming lighter.

'Unfire'

CHRONIC

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http://alisiacasper.bandcamp.com/album/chronic-new-album

Hush.

From here- tulips. 

On the window-sill, and they crane their stalk necks and their heads loll- fully blown, crepe as they live out a cut death. 

But I love them.

Against the blue of the sky, against the living green of the laurel- that shines-
that bees and wasps move in and out of.
I can see the structure of the leaves & all the hard and soft of it.

Somehow the light does not get in here, the room is dulled- I will go out. 

Under the sun- the fork of the frown between my brows, follow a slow cloud- follow the ants, greeting, busy, fast- listen to the rush of traffic- swoosh- listen to the rumble of aeroplane. 

Feel hungry- feel thirsty. 

The dear, sweet, small necessary of the day. 

So swift and right beneath a hot bright hour. 

You can marvel at a beetle folding it's wings away.

And, you can be here- then- gone.