catching rocks

tripping over my own feet.   just like thought.
like a novel sometimes.   but only when I look.


the word far is common now.
inside outside, is one of the illusions kept.
playing recursively.   time remembering time.

feeling I suppose, is my default.   like how some
might look sidewise, seeing me.

kindness.   written some might bigger now.
gardening.   on hands and knees.
that remains the gate.   grace, letting go.
as I am.
is there more?   another chance, is that the question?

yes.   no.

yes.   both.


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