[ w/ bright green large format dot grid & blue ink ]
The Dalles was opening up
to consume me. i rolled
alongside the vehicle,
ready to be paved to sleep,
unable to take the required
pills, holding open the
romantic sky by setting
fires. this is full extension
of the leg. this is walking
and crying in sync. little
blue, never home, and
rarely a home after it,
some brief months in the
room without an address,
being gifted radishes by
a nearby swan. it helps
to define the animal.
the definition oozes. i walk
across The Dalles over & over.
i start a jar of what’s
discarded. i do not fit
in the jar. i do not stop
walking. i wiggle into my
body just to fall straight
through. we all become
sometimes interchangeable.
from the floor of the attic
cracks start to form but
the house stays steady.
its glass holds breath so
long even the foundation
dizzies, but nothing falls.
you know how to fit in small
spaces, this knowledge
never leaves you. you leave,
over & over. you walk
until your knees buckle
and surge. i wasn’t praying
i was begging. i wasn’t moving
i was watching myself be
moved. i misunderstood the
valley as opening its mouth,
it’s an easy mistake for someone
who craves structure, as someone
whose jaw goes tight
and rings there.