When you're houseless, everywhere is home. When you're heartless, every touch revives. I'm neither less nor more than a sum of my losses, without you. Gold sinks, water dances still. There are no strangers in our open morning, no friends bearing a true compass other than the baby sun and harbor moon. Silence can't be broken like a horse. Rope and saddle and wishes stay selfish in the pecking orders of mountains. My glacier thirsts for the ocean floor, shaggy with salt. When we're helpless, we help ourselves to suffer. When the polis eats us, we're political. A routine checkup checks all the Pandora boxes, unpostmarked by design. Everything done comes undun, washing the tomorrow clean of whence. Worn out thread becomes a nest, with effort feathers. I bark another tree, spin a yarn, and tumble in my bagworm skin. When rebooted, our toes map the cavernous naps and spatial tuck. When pulling oneself out of the tarpit, the tar comes along to the dino museum. It's free. 

SE Pdx 5-17-22