Returning to

sanctimonious,

stretching and trying,

opting in.

opposed to but for words

this imagination

not broad enough for next,

last in line.

the absolute

the each other

but one another

streamlining

tree trimming

in the absence of our own place.

and time, it becomes

and becomes and comes again.

something outside:

a filtered light, a lost tooth, a meaning beyond

a boundary

or two. that one-time duck

with a broken neck and no explanation.

no fucking explanation.

we are all so small.

and the power to retreat, to exit -

SO big.

so necessary. 

such a blind disregard for all that may come, become.

all that is and ever was.

it’s a universe, and yet, we say yes.

defy expectations, meet them, mold them,

destroy them.

all at once it’s a dream, and then

it’s not.