Sunday, September 19, 2021


moving in and out of focus with the patterns of it all, sky in the faintest purple and grey, moon in there, too, a calling or receiving, wherever light goes when it goes to you, across from a deep shingled roof, deep blue I mean: the color of home, my father, a place just beyond what is, a sinking after coming to see fear just being fear, small steps being always not enough, big steps far off and the way forward, the clarity of friendship sitting there playing accordion on the couch, huge breathes in slowness, that which is never quiet, the silliness of the sound, its weird sadness as pages are filled, slips of paper are woven into little quilts then tucked away, ink just being ink, weekly meetings dissolving to monthly, to huge impassable distances crossed in a single afternoon, a twenty minute drive, then alone at home on a saturday night, getting a call for sunday plans, canceling things then getting canceled on, some drifting happening, something coming into view  

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