Sometimes I feel this way:

moments elongate ~ bone in skin compresses to a pinpoint beneath
touch ~ a fingertip barely brushes surface yet
embraces
everything.

ink runs low and begins skipping through my words fading
in out ~ I am nowhere near done patiently attending to broken
thoughts strewn together too quick but not fast enough.

Grasping slows to careful, brave and different
attention ~ sensation without narration nourishes an at-oned
agile mind, outmaneuvers paradigm one elongated word at a
time ~some times I feel this way:

spirit perplexed by specificity, my soul without gender or boundary,
pivots in anonymous
air ~ heart-steeled and wildly gentle
~ armed with a fistful of tender, nestled in a deep need
to offer.