one Mississippi, two Mississippi’s… five Mississippi’s.
how long for smoke to congregate? or do we gather the other way round?
dissipation. does that mean less? or more, spread out on the table, wide.
salt and pepper. surrounding. embracing. taste.
- this will need do as my sugar substitute.
it’s not the water that passes under the bridge. it’s the water that passes beneath your feet. can you feel the body you are walking upon? how it softens to your familiar stride. like tide and sand, it slips away so easily.
hardly time for hands to reach inside. let go, that’s the wisdom here.
I remember you. but that’s the story I repeat to myself. see the paint brushes in my hand. see the colors fade, then return. brown then gold then blonde, all shades of silk. if memory has a color, it’s the color of sky. from the far corner of my eye a cat takes shape. then gone.
how is my balance the same as yours? should we lean, the other comes along, bright-polar shadowing. embrace. falling, even while we are still the centers of the universe. in your arms. same as me. all balance, relative to the one center of the universe. here.
here, this is inside the lion’s cage. no cape, none at all.
of what I anticipate. I couldn’t be more wrong. it’s a gift.
it is always farther than I think. and sooner too.
perspective is mirror image. right here. reflecting.
I am myself recursively.
I am a prisoner of wings. promises.
for many years I had a tail. it was a way to remember home. motion is the better part of true. changes. change is understandable. that is to say, we hold it above our heads. focus is resident.
if the river seems making us apart. then swim as a river swims. inside.
body all around. without conditions.
mississippi is my name.
I wonder where the ocean is.
One thought on “five confessions of reality”
Poor Mississippi. She used to be so close to the sea.