1. DRIPPING PAGES
Through her slowed pupils
for the rite of humans.
A branch full of houses opened up to the edge to the city.
Small spaces, broken off halways, uneven
step counts and a bounty of muddy shoes
- always before doors.
'We were running before but now we are resting' they say,
we were smelling grasses, we were catching air.Gasping away into oblivion,
we tried to breath in as much as possible.
We thought about it
and the more we though the harder it became.
To catch the moment of the breath not in passing:
We had to stop thinking.
We will spend the day wandering, not thinking.
Breathing, not communicating.
We marched out as a peace corps,
shoes in hand,
We followed her blindly onto a wider street.
Down the cities west vein.
To cross the road we watched the red light count green.
Our edges grew a defence,and our vows compressed a warmth around
us-ghosting became our adopted style.
Then with speed a train entered from life.
Steel on Steel grinding out the noise of the soft swimming car traffic.
A small silence.
A short rest in material reality,
and we came to think:
'We made an outsider'
Before we thought:
We forgot to breathe together
Rhythmically dragging through
World likeSnails through sand