It shook the fear right out of me,
like dirt from the rug
That kept being pulled out from beneath my feet,
it\’s hard to know
where I can stand.
So I am nailing the rug
to the floor,
And painting something
on it.
Falling, tripping child, reaching
Like leaf from branch to shore
Instant longing
This soul screaming,
In unending days
Searching the grounds between time and places
for reversibility
Thin Tin String 