unsure and hopeful that i will turn
into this giant thing i desperately want to
a small ball of string
that starts tipping, then slowly rocking and
on it's way to becoming
ball of collected life stor(ies)y
ever in my history.
frankly my dear, i don't give a damn.
it's only ever been
into the shape
whatever it is
of something i am inside but cannot be
on my own.
i keep discovering little corners and bits of geometry
that i didn't know fit into my structure
oh, so well.
these sharp angles that keep poking out are preventing me from rolling,
i am finding
the stopping and slowing
is all this ink needs
to flow life into these dry bones.
green as a dandelion leaf.