in the arena when the child of a friend takes their first breathe as the wax melts away from the wick as the candle is lit in the arena when the friend of a friend becomes conscious of their breathe as the soft glow of light spreads out reflecting windows within the shadows on all …
Although it appears that I sit here, still I move the air surrounding, with each breathe, I pull the energy from the dark roots of the earth, there is mud under my nails and dried clay in my pores, All of history resides in that compost, every gain and loss compacted under rain and ice, …
Nothing but blackish skeletons in a dense fog At 31°, as steam wafts south from my coffee mug, Breathe vapor wafts south on my out breathe, the earth must be moving, Even the fog is moving south. Neighborhood birds are still warm in their tree nests, It is quiet enough, to listen for The sound …
