Sun Salutation. // Grey morning with here and there spots of rain, where shaded distances contour the horizon, making clear certain things that need doing. Hating. (Be not afraid. Let me neutralize this word, my self.) Rough or reflective edges, surfaces, too much or too little sound or light or tactile or calculative
friction.
With neither apology nor anger, (heartless), the actor’s genius of making it her own, (editing), (object murder), as it’s fraught enough to be born, (a dream incarnate), (a serpent without a shell), let me not be such a stranger to my own re-armored skin. (Warm welcome to you, this cancer season. And a reminder that, from every end of creation, all is just beginning.)