walk the weld

I’m sitting though not knocked down, though that did happen a little earlier. My skull is ringing on the beaten end of bone. Looking away I misplaced my eyes and walked into one for the team. The stars weren’t quite shooting, but I was well aware they were there. Distance points pinning down the particles. The busy blaze and the tail end of the fall. Head thumping on the driveway, curses spewing from my every seam. We find our feet, we walk the weld.

It’s not as if the clock was counting. It’s not as if there was ever enough of it to slow down. Gathering up the apparition, watching from the foothills of the mirror. The turn of the earth, the spin of the storm, sore from every star that’s screaming on, it’s feet or footing. The coffee down to the dregs. The little laughing dog that thinks this is fun. The fool ever wheeling away from the teeth at his heels.

Every day it’s a whole new low. The late sprint up the hastening hill. Your beating breath closing into being. The framework trailing sparks, the house on fire. The hardest part is knowing what to do with your hands. The passion play looms as the flesh goes erring. The magic all in knowing what you will. Turning the time down to save on space. The stars always speaking to the earth.