4/365

Here’s to the cold. The chill. The bite. The freeze-shatter. Here’s to the bed. The smoke signals in the sheets. The tango of consciousness. The rind of dreams. Here’s to the shell. The inside. The Hallow. The tug. Pull away. Here’s to the dark and the undertow. The drafts- both back and over, they are infinities like this. Here’s to the palace. The shine. The neon lights of everything that comes gold plated. Here’s to the bag, and the holding, and the areas of containment. Here is the walls broken. Windows shattered. Holes torn in fences. Chain link or picket, you always see through their bullshit. Here’s to seeing through bullshit. To passing what is not for us like Washington on The Delaware. To laughing in the beast’s face. Here’s to ‘I dare you.’ To ‘watch me do the impossible,’ To ‘watch me do it again, but this time better,’ Here’s to ‘I’ll be better,’ 

January 4th, 2019