In a capsule, in a pod
in time realizing trash is
an assessment; mist is the
discarded refuse of otherwise
holiday-blue heavens
Broken boundaries are made to discover
larger boundaries, gases
that never
stop expanding lungs that will
one day
not expand – what better reason to
slice errands and home
repairs into postcards, to post mile
markers and share footage, what better
reason to, hourly,
ask
what better reason? Separation from
primates is a proclamation: crafting mugs, filling
mugs with embryos of conversation, gripping mugs
with opposable thumbs, throwing mugs, digging, always
digging, always flicking
light
switches, always checking
the time to fill
the time
But there is travel, there is
envy that drives the missing link to be
envied for a scenic walk along the Columbia
River, there is a vantage
point
from which the whole becomes the sum
of false starts and negative
space, with syrupy
choruses filling the caverns of uncertainty
and hesitation with their suggested
edits: remain
rotten, mourn the forgotten
molecules in each
strand of hair, memorize the
motions necessary
to fix one more supper, take your kisses
where
they may be gotten.
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