giving and grace

Lose me in the fulcrum, Where the world has three eyes, Vapour, stillness and10,000 arroyos, Where everyone cries, Lay me in the ocean floor, where everything is equidistant from the heart, Bold, bulging, busted singularity, Leave me at the melting point, Spun sunspot, triple digit tracking lost Lucy, Juicy white cotton mobile, Forever changing sides, No one ever dies, Three windows, Shadows, tombs and time, My tongue knows three lies, No place to hide, In the loss, escape, and weight, Lay me on the other side of insight, Where I am worth the weight in the mirror, The birth between oil and fire, Stars and flight, Bubble tongue double back drum born, The fulcrum leaking and raining emptiness of eyelashes, Riddles and ripples, I make up the difference between fragile fortune fevers, In the deep labyrinth of language, 10,000 rivulets in one movement, Reaching and forgetting, Bidding on answers from loneliness, To foreshadow a holiness to come from, Rearranging the stage, the audience and play, With a secret sound from a deeper place, I keep to the comfort of my crisscrossed limbs, sticky winds and abandonment, Where the tired whistle burns for the blue canoe made of night,