Start with the elimination of words that weigh what landfill weighs: unburden selves
you did not know that you had in you. Trade present tense for depth. Perceive
layers as a way through an accumulated sadness. No one, ever, functions as
a panacea flavoring your every inadvertent error. Earned runs turn out average,
right? Focus on mistakes as maps that lead to accidental perfection. Loneliness
becomes the sequel to compulsive repair. Once everything is fixed, there's just
you sitting there, watching everything perform. If you've been taught to occupy
the present tense, you know there's no investment in being accurate. Or wrong.
You're there, a part of anything that happens without filling the vessel of five
or more senses that come along. If language is a given, offer it to someone
unlikely to (ab)use it.
Eaves trough leaking holy water, clouds the color frost
Sheila E. Murphy