No edit past the closing of the last hour
These eyes watch the feet and the hands of the self
Walking and waking through life
Carrying the weight of the interior, cautioning risk, carting out exposure.
Rotating panels of unfinished to purposefully annoy the incomplete in me.
Tasks, after all, are only that. Tasks. I am not the tasks set before me,
However, I am the word I gave, to any and all that asked, upon which, I agreed to.
Coughing up guttural complaints, exacerbating my maxed procrastination levels
Who am I beyond the wheel I was yesterday, ten months ago, a half life ago?
The dirt from another State, underfoot. My shoes, smothered
Kicked, skipped, climbed, canoodled... Moseying into a monsoon summer
Of permanency.
Eclectic tomorrow, with your neighbor scarce living conditions
I am coming for you.
For your trees, your birds, your windy howl.
For your high desert blooms, Russian sage, and jagged musculature.
To claim your heady perfumes,
Sweetened sweater weather,
...and invitations, so bright.
To lure and lay down with
So many warm Tuesdays and Sundays
...and hand held genius 'thank you's...'
Built on the hearth of firm choosing.
Tea and tactile amusement
Will count the hours moving forward
As the lightest hues of lavender dusk
Pervade the open night.
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