ghost words 10.29.2018 10:11 pm

i fall back
and to the right (normally to the right for some reason)
that’s the direction of healing
that’s the place the smoke come in

is drawn in
is blown in
is where it comes in

i bend over i fall over i let my feet slide over i slide across the dirt and rocks and marbled layers of time i lean over and never break (although my bones may crack and pop like snapping limbs) they don’t go anywhere (of course they have a firm place here in my form in the body i sometimes say i own ((although lately it just feels like i’m renting it)) and all this might turn out bad) bad like when the sauerkraut got too much air and went moldy but we ate it anyway and it made our stomachs hard and tough (oh yes) tough enough to face life on the hill with the cows running like gusts or gales through the land through the cabin through my sisters and me where we were born through where the eyes droop down through the night watching the fire burn out of my father’s arms and legs as the dirt beats him as tall plants overtake him to the right and i’m here thinking why were you so goddamn mean? (you gentle son of a bitch)

blue cows and shy red hair hidden under a child’s bed

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