i know something you don’t know

i forgot about the gestural dance shtick. gotta get to it. old folk in the Cadillac, baby clutching at thumb, old woman imploring safety and security from young stranger, kitsch wwII sailor kissing pedestrian nurse, lonely stray cat nuzzle, residue from Library Books

[.beat.]

I choose to begin again. I do. I have so much lingering in the eaves, I tend to shove it into shadow out of shame and regret, lack of power or choice. But I keep it, I fear to challenge things, break chains, upend old power struggles and prisons. I do not now. I have all choice, all potential. I am huge against the sky. Peaceful, quiet, omnipotent, surveying the long angular lines, the vineyards, jungles, deserts, seas, bogs and enclosed fields terraced against words, stacks of legal writ, old lovers letters, all scratching against the quicksand pits, stars, one million minefields. I can see it all, I know every inch out of memory. I sleepwalk

There is to be no lingering shame, no obligations remaining. Clean sweeping, tracing lines and circles, polishing the frame of my ribs over my guts. The organs are sullied, I’m rubbing so gently with water, wiping away the grime, the lacquer, everything is fresh, vulnerable, pulsating, freed. Crowds are hollering, demanding shares, contracts, explanation. Everyone I loved, everyone I hurt, everything I left behind, everything unfinished, I see it all stretching before me, piled with its relative guilt, confusion, angst, consternation, disgust, nostalgia, worry. Under trees and bushes, piled in the cactus tops, sinking in the swamps. I keep these tattered intestinal bookmarks like umbilical cords, as if I’d ever need this phantasmagorical roadmap to find my own traumas. I know where they are, what they are. I’m leaving them, gently, softly, completely. Life is not the sorta thing that suffers absolutes, but sincerity glows brighter than the sun. I want my heart, I’m polishing it, I’m reclaiming it to do as I see fit with.

I’m watching this girl casting a shadow over beyond those low hills, she has no keys but wants to peer through the windowframes. I’m curious about her. I’ll give her a garden house as the days turn cold, she wants her space and shall have no roof. Sometimes we sit before the fire, these sounds have been interupting, them sounds done inspired me to come up to this attic with this here broom. Out with ye, demons. I’m cleaning out some space, the machinery out the window, pulling open the blinds, sun streaming in like gold. I’m plucking em up, setting these old moaning souls alongside roads, walk on our walk high with me doc, like freedom, like awakening, all light, loving, freed. A tic toc and all bets are off. All ghosts can spend some time sleeping, I rescind haunting, rescind regret, rescind invitations all around. I am my own, I go where I love, I run for warmth,

I am whole.

 

I’m walking in sunlight and letting it blind me,

bleaching the blood off my big ol smile

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