cleaning out the closet can be intense.
Relics:

unfruitful wishes laying their heavy carcasses at the back of my energy
I did not clear them.
memories of misunderstanding
still casting their shadows in this present
(just as my hand, lit from above by the airplane’s stingy light,
casts its shadow on this page.)

full-time?
no
i wanted to roll around in my luxuriousness
letting the money flow in while scratching out writings,
unurgently

what were my problems before?

(a jumbled mess as ultimately miraculous as new york)
(switch inks
so it doesn’t bleed through)

i walked these wounds into cavernous ravines
until the bottom fell through

questions coil from the base of the spine
grow upward
vowels on my arms

are stronger
hard constonants pivot from the core
question marks swim like little fish in front of my eyes
with sharp teeth in dark waters
i sit still i gaze

until later,
from upside down
question marks uncurl themselves into
exclaimation marks

i have forgotten everything i knew
i had to believe to get up here.

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it had to come some
time
the flow
of pent up years
questions trying to uncurl into sentences stark straight// black and white on paper or screens
it hasn’t been easy
birthing
this one

this one
scratched at my insides
this one
was heavy as the weight of all my years, squared
this one
cried inside
and though no one could hear it
i could feel it
deep gut tears
bloody wailings
wanting
to rip free of cords and apparatus’
wanting
light and air again
and some direction and purpose some movement
not this watery reality always
watery and dark-

but the pen will push through
eventually
with enough sleep
enough hours turned over in dark folds of sky
it isn’t pretty giving birth to the pretty
creating self out of thin air and everything
growing from losses into a rich abundance where everything stands
on end
like flower petals on braches exhuberant and complete
about
to be blown away

we are like that at the end
our fullest explosion
but we are
no longer holding on
the smallest wind can take us