morningtomorning.net 

The sometimes ritual of laying around,

getting sunburnt and forgetting things

 

 

 

Sitting and sweating between my little, round breasts

Following a line of oak trees

 

 

 

***Important to note: I have always been afraid of the gaze of birds; 

 so dramatic a remnant of the Jurassic period***

 

 

 

or, on an inner tube inflated, in the imagination, of course,

floating on a very still river,

a simple metaphor for the unavoidable stillness of existence and an

easy place to contemplate:

 

 

forgetting everything I haven’t understood 

 

passively trying to forget this, too.

 

 

 

I haven’t been reading at all, just holding a book, flipping pages and getting sunburnt.