poetry

working with air

I wish to unfold myself.

Spread out the contents of my head to better see

what’s in there where

nineteen thousand and ninety days

give momentum to my stride

 

across the blasted heath

 

Yesterday a sunrise was beginning there I swear.

I recall a thought, I think …

I forget – what,

what thoughts I have formed,

what forms the worlds I created took,
from which form I framed this version of what I have been?

am?

I remember much, but little of my being,

of time bleached days now

soft stains on the snaking matter of brain i strain

to know If I  turned out ok in the end.

 

I’m unfolding myself now

I’m air.

I work with air.

 

MJ Scallan

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