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Writhe Dry yrD ehtirW

Twisting in on myself

Like a tree around the sun

I've cut off the leaves with the trunk

I'm trying to find what has run

I'm a knot!

of creaky green mottled

bending round to count polyps

and unexpectedly throttle

the very life from which the wish

to be blemishless came

as I writhe over backwards

I pinch and pull towards the same

And I'm stuck

It's impossible

to simultaneously need and reach your center

Like leaves around the fire pit

and ashes for dinner

forming leaf into smoke

is the wrong way round to reach

As what once was canopy

is again

but suddenly lit from beneath

You can't touch the mirror

And still see what's inside

Like a dog chasing its tail

a catcher wails and derides

Beginners cry 

When you've drawn blood

to find your friend

you find your ends

And you let go or you try

I've spent so long growing another twist towards the light

I have singed off the green

And made a mess of good eaves

I've let a lot of flowers bloom and subsequently fall under wreaths

Never sure whether it's inside out

Fire crisping the tops of the trees

Or outside in

Coiling around the warmth I can seize

It doesn't matter

when the bright is always opposite the breeze

You can't twist your way around the sun

You can't cut trunks with just leaves

So writhe

Cause no matter how lonely

No thing can eat itself to feel full

And no matter how long or flexible

No thing can get out of it's own way to peak soul

You either externalize your light

Or dry out and leak wholes

Palm Reading

Friday Postcard #6 - That's what she said