I feel like running
into a tree
slap the bark with a pat on the ass
go get ’em
in a pink icing petticoat swallowing my legs
feet, skin
skin I keep peeling off my fingers
my edges fraying
I keep getting cold, my eye only stopped pulsing today
I’m trying to whittle down my use of I
to sit under something
the pot lid of tree branches
stew with pine needles falling down
stew until there’s bone
Such an image, such a thought, “…stew until there’s bone.” It is essence, and there may be nothing that CAN’T be made from what has been rendered.
Yes! I feel bones are the balance of a body. They don’t absorb feeling like other things in our bodies. They are hard to get into like closed doors. You have to break them to enter – unlike our hearts that are so wide open screening things – bad thoughts among it.
I want to start again from the bones and build back only the things I want to keep.
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