Kaddish or A Breath

It took me a month to realize the bathtub had a texture in some spots and not others – lost underneath black foot prints of desert dirt.
I imagine the texture of a cloud – running my hand over ice crystal pumps – the pit of stomach sadness realization its water and not soft – freely floating horizon to horizon.
I’ve watched the sun rise and set in one breath – torches in the sky – cockroaches scurrying on the ground for food or shelter or an impending storm.
The air is warm and heavy – everything is – when you can’t reach the ground.
A smiling skull inside a book of poems and comic strips – dreams and more clouds.
I remember nights in the old desert – coyotes calling back and forth – a kill made, it’s time for sleep – koi and tarantulas and the ghost of a badger.
A prayer said into a glass of stale water, bent pick and tension suspended in a lone deadbolt – carpet under my feet for the first time in years.
16 steel strings and nothing in tune, the ground seems unattainable – but just within reach if I try…and try harder.
Nox is playing games and small dogs bark as muscles strain and pain.
PERDURABO written on a scrap paper that fell under the bed.
There are no birds with the sun, just a family of rabbits and heavy footfalls, strangers smiling – the heat is hidden and unaware of my presence.
A path from point to sky, lost in the clouds, hiding meteors – so many stars, 88 constellations and all I see are casinos and strange shadows – a fire dancer with a boom box, a bag full of books left untouched.
Things happen – you can’t stop them, or make them move faster…or slower…or faster…or… – feet finding ground, standing strong, but light.
I dreamed of a train – curling around silent dark mountains – wolves outside, snow on the tracks, crystal chandeliers and red velvet.
The sound of a cello vibrating against my heart – beats and beasts in a sweaty, spellbinding desert dream dance – Good morning, Mr. Magpie – is it that time already?
I sleep, with the desert outside – laughing families and run down cars – beggars and a cat in the window – everyone turning off lights. Click…click…click…



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