קלאָץ

the mind is spent
the mind is gone
counterfeit coins in the slot machine
intelligence alludes you, the hedgehog wins.

On its own this slowing down, this meandering into the trivial, would be manageable, understandable, even. but other troubles stalk you. the quiet fierceness of your heart, blank as snow. you live in an empty room now, or so it seems. a life adjacent to yours. eyes just a bit sunken perhaps. hands still fumbling. the uncertainty that jostles for space, loosens you up. words falter. betrayal is in the air.fewer doors are open. need to walk through them carefully. in a dream you walk on glass. and when you wake up? not much different.

that dopey drooping lower lip of yours, caused no hearts to swoon. you fall over yourself repeatedly, clown. rather than once, over someone else.

early morning mist rises from the filthy stream. there is beauty if you look. by mid-afternoon it will be gone, but still as real. so it is with many things.

the nets are down, and fish sing with such bittersweet longing. Unsure if being caught is a worse fate than being free. exit signs abound. but what is the way in to your heart?

a name without a face, a face without a name.

A letter. Z or X. You read by the window, standing up, letting each word slowly roll over. Natural light is good for you, you know. Words and images slip by you. Very little sticks nowadays. The world on a piece of paper. But this much you know: what is given with an open heart is held, with firm hands. Inscribes itself in your soul. You catch your breath. All else falls away.