one more broken morning

one more broken morning and a spine whose tiny vertebrae seem to roll and fret like an early spring ocean. a dance is what's holding me up. nothing ever settled, nothing finished, nothing sold. a day begins. a day ends. words can come fast. words can come not at all. voices come along and fade, a roaring train shaking the windows in my head. blue sky gray sky blue. shining sun. cold wind. full moon. forward motion. falling. and beginning again. let's forget this dance; remember almodovar; remember neruda; remember wheat. let your hand unwrest. let it fall to music and melody and waves of sound, broken and shattered like fallen leaves flying upwards under the pressure of the tiniest foot. (image via we heart it)

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