22

had we arrived at tending before this? you know the animal sleeps under gaze so you watch and watch, peel oranges onto your stomach, flecks of juice. it's a ripe bed, citrus bright, then daybreak calls for lines of peel to dry across any thresholds. how does one remove the oil from an orange, anyway? what does this grit achieve? we duck the circles ticks make then one mark for every pinch. it is possible to yell into your own mouth but you must accept failure first, then gulp. only your forest eyes will do here, wide, then rolling. the conversation goes like this: bear tells duck tells owl, then owl keeps it in a tree until it's time. a disturbance of needles, something heavy climbing.
                            i am made of direction
                                                  but not exclusively, there is also a subtle fuzz coming through. what's crisp with soft edges? what are these cycles trying to convey? my morning senses are coming back, not all at once but i can stand on one foot for a long time while wobbling through play. i can make my hip pop in an effort to ease the joint around its exchange. i could probably carry you on my back for a while, you'd have to tell me where to go. now it's my time to balance on a two-to-three day letter. i try to call this inquiry but can't always keep words in place. i hope the conversation drops on big wings into my good ear on the other side of this.