It shook the fear right out of me, like dirt from the rugThat 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 somethingon it.Falling, tripping child, reachingLike leaf from branch to shoreInstant longingThis soul screaming,In unending daysSearching the grounds between time and placesfor … Continue reading Tripping