I am filled with a thousand moving streams of endless possibility, racing blood and sweat and unforgivable visions of excellence. I pray on homemade notebooks; I prey on lost boys...I run from something in the air that makes me, ahhhh exhale and let everything fall out of place, disheveled, de-mystified, re-wrinkled and pure.

I let a breath move me miles high, take me back and forth, sit me down and cry on its shoulder 'til I'm breathless again, and there's nothing left to breathe but all the drifting spirits here.

The way the moon looks through all the windows at once, i sneak through the in-betweens, to let the half light kiss me with its whispered knowing, and feel my skin unravel in its hands. It's blooming all around me, with a pale red readiness, a morning waiting to be born.