Word Rummager

candles for counting for seeing the way to us for nights with no moon

I read the poem somehow before writing it then I wrote it and read it aloud as words were in front of me but they had been in me longer than I thought because it felt like singing an old song where the tune carries you over the words and all you do is feel something and that’s what I wish to have and leave most days

more than other rocks we can’t leave the moon alone as its draw transcends

I made the bed while still in it this morning when it’s hard to face another day knowing you’re squandering time just surviving looking for a place to hunker down not explicitly a bunker ignoring chairs that don’t have all feet on the floor at once as they’re as unbalanced as I am still reaching for fruit and sunshine midday as if the vitamins may repel the dark thinking self care is twaddle but indulging in a comfy shirt and extra tea and a swipe of color on my nails wondering if I’m forever on the wrong side of the mountain or if I’m just lost

exotic riffs on a quiet Thursday the song has been there for days a wailing sort of thing of course in a minor chord because that’s how this summer goes I belted it out in my basement work space this morning also kicking as high as I could why not give something my all holding back 90% of the time is exhausting (but I just have to) so when I let go it’s bittersweet hopeful and I’m so full, just for a moment

How’s your light? Did the sickly yellow of your morning fade? I picture morning like a bruise, the greys and yellows turning blue and red. The sun is a wondrous star but it’s harsh and so honest, I can barely look up in afternoon. Sometimes I close my eyes figuratively before jumping into the day, imagining more forgiveness at night. I so love the moon. I think you do too. I think a portrait of us could be done in charcoal, smudges of dark dancing.

stock answers it’s sweltering but I have my faculties surviving blazing blue sky purple flowers in shade a breeze weaving throughout each day is a new ache with colors worth noting despite fatigue land with water built in books nearby glorious trees everywhere hungry for something is better than not feeling and today is almost edible windows to see in or out a faraway song butterflies no matter what

today’s sun feels different than yesterday’s but also I’m outside which I couldn’t bear until I dug and found kindness without needing anyone else one step forward hundreds of hopes lifted there is heart in the breeze, carried from flower to flower with the only drudgery being how we reimagine home as it fits in a blah little box instead of fields of possibility