i dread when i should dream
i hold back the scratch of pen
the keys silenced from their clickedy click
visceral visual gesture dissipates in this silence
smallness pinpointed from bulgaria with love
yes i knew
the walk in, round, through
things that make small
they wrestle from within and without
private made public in a frightening unpack of postings
so as life drifts forward into more grounded presence
the risk of making visible
its realities make unsafe
the pen now sits still, the keys silent,
not for fear of smallness
but for the reveal results
hunger and desheltering
unfriending history erasures reached
making the twits and twitches read
uncannily accurate in the foretelling
i need to scratch
the rhythm of the stroked key
i am drowning in the silent stillness of unwritten posts
but i don't want to be afraid, hungry, desheltered or memory reedited
so i will scratch and stroke my way out of silences
i will post under an assumed
i think it will assist me to get back to my making
to dream off the back of dread
to open my gait to test run it for a bit
of course
i drink too much diet coke.
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