I have pitched my tent wide of the mark and the catalytic converter in my heart has not done its job in several years. The rain does most things well, but today it does not have its normal piercing character. Everything is smooth, eroded. Handholds grinning distant in the fog. I’ll falsify the moments and collect them, invisible and insubstantial. Building castles, building ways to stay away.
Slower Ways of Knowing
Slower Ways of Knowing
Slower Ways of Knowing
I have pitched my tent wide of the mark and the catalytic converter in my heart has not done its job in several years. The rain does most things well, but today it does not have its normal piercing character. Everything is smooth, eroded. Handholds grinning distant in the fog. I’ll falsify the moments and collect them, invisible and insubstantial. Building castles, building ways to stay away.