A Week in Verse.

The wind brushes
Soft brush of the hand
Swipe gently
Rustling the bottom of a long skirt
Gentle breezes blossom up from long awaited earth-warmth
Embrace the sun
Embrace the chill shade
Toss lighting from your fingertips
Old skin sheds in stacks, in smoky cisterns, in stumbling semblance of chance
Embrace the new growth
Pink, shining, emblem of Difference
Stand strong and tall and cautious with your arms outstretched and waiting
A tiny push
Sets you swimming
Sets you flying
Sets you falling
And the bottom is water
The bottom is stuffed foam pillows
The bottom is bottomless...
Air
Empty
Full
Filling
You Embrace
Your-self
Embrace Your stillness, your airy youth, your second adolescence, your prim plantation of utter lush loose fitting green-space,
Open your mouth to feast on strange and Living Water,
Your Spirit is infinite
Your space is infinite and yet...
Filled with the molecules of souls from all the ages, all the times and temperatures and continents...
Stare down in your whiskey glass
And gaze through the haze of cigarette smoke and ash
Feel the sticky leftover beer/coffee/semen/idea puddling on the coffee table with your feet on it;
You talk louder
You laugh freely
You admit defeat and also prizes collected through all your winnings
You are allowing
Allowing
To be
To become
To Embrace
To Fill
To Live
To Heal
Someone you barely know leaves lipstick on the tip of your cheekbone
Your half-smile lingers in response to laughing questions about your state of sobriety -
It's dark in here.
The television screen shows endless runs of train tracks
You have to sign a book, show your ID, spill a little liquor
In this town someone's always leaving.