What became of you?

what became of you?

tiny shadows that wrinkle like paper on the floor
and a tiny sound of rustling behind the door

I’ve made mistakes

I’ll call it memory,
this imagining of spaces
my over-reaction to displacement
and the shaking of my hands
my legs and their weakness
my back will ache and my neck will break
or feel like it
and I will call on memory
to know to know to know

simple singing will resound in empty hallways

I’m in love with physicality
so much more than any hint of spirit
Aptly named, so like alcohol
The meat of existence is its own sustenance

So in love with reality
that imagination is more like paint than stone

to know to be to know to be
I am I see I am I see
to love to be to love to see
I am I am I am

Come sing with me again,
though your voice will crack,
and the wind has left me

to be to be to be to be
I am I am I amnow you….


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