I find it clear tonight that what one choses to become might be the choice already chosen.
-DBL
* * * * *
Spilling on a Thought
Folding a paper
that has time impregnated in it
points cross
I wonder if dogs have
occurrences of random recall
Forming a square
time leaks
from the creases
One hand cupping
the other to support
I empty into my hand
figures that remind me
My skin remembers only
what it touches
With this thought
I look to see
who will remember
this moment
No one
Who will have this job
For me I am not one to react
Left to wonder myself
these things that occur
Pouring through my hand
my face finds the ground
I find company in the liquid
of this paradox
Treading in the mistake
that lead me here
my foot gets stuck in a fold
Flesh or pulp
I do not know
Tugging straight
into another mistake
Lucky me
I am the viewer and the holder
I remove myself
With the lose of perspective
once again I find myself
spilling on a thought
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