i’m drifting on a swooping patch of fluff in the cabin of a hot air balloon
fumes catching to the wind in their trail, catching to me; so i jump
gliding down to earth’s rusty terrain with my parasol in hand, and my debt in the other
Icy Beauty
i’m drifting on a swooping patch of fluff in the cabin of a hot air balloon
fumes catching to the wind in their trail, catching to me; so i jump
gliding down to earth’s rusty terrain with my parasol in hand, and my debt in the other
tip toeing as not to split the thin glaze beneath the arch of my foot
every creek and corner shattering my insides, scooping their seeds onto a plate for all to see; so i carefully slough them to the end of tomorrow’s table
my toes point as i plié through marshlands
concentrating on getting every move right
squatting and covering for the night in a deep bog
need to stop, but must keep going
trudging away in a buttery jam
everything around me sticking to my legs
the mud forms a permanent home in my soul
think I’m moving forward but we are just walking in circles
stomping on nature’s icy beauty
remiss to the bear trap’s; i know where they are now
unabashedly audacious in my tall winter boots
crumbly bite of wind on my face; i forge ahead in fearless fashion
my eyes eating anyone in my path; my hands absolving the past reckage
storm warnings ahead, but i firmly stomp on
the sky ruptures in two and her tears bathe the mountains
goosebumps form all over as the tantrum embraces my skin
they tell me to hold on, but i let go as i float down her brooks
an ethereal sense absorbs me as i dive into an unruffled cove
my parasol seems to appear as if it never left; it was waiting for me here all this time
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