a house could glow its wanting open, not doors but the sense of doors when you stop noticing them and paint their hinges matte solid, benign portal that flips so the portal's in you now, the house is working on falling. you can't see the moon from any of these windows. if you believe in thinking why don't you believe in light, why don't you believe light when it comes through just so, what starts line goes puddle, less pointing toward and more spreading into, laying out the field.
i can feel light's body quality
sometimes even when i've forgotten to leave the house. everything empties echo, the front steps are cold but the sidewalk is warm, palms to both to catch the difference. i haven't been walking so everything takes knots to their other tightness. i want to put my face on the ground now and someday i want to be a ghost, want to leave my skull to plunk it out. the beat stays with me, i think it wasn't physicality i kept in that box. there's a green voice trying to instruct me through fire to the sturdy earth me and because i'm trying to become adept at surrender, i let it.
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