1981-2015:

as a young growing in rural North Idaho (the ever cold and snowy north) there were as many potential friends as leaves on the flag of our northern neighbours. 

extroverts learned quick-step to any warm corpus, their binary polar reminded that the forest was the place for breathing. 

became season creatures, became alice in dead ways that wrinkled out skin, uncooked. 

running mountains to top out lost, thirteen years of age ago, without fear of coming home for supper. burning things made in coffee makers from chemistry classes we could never pass. 

power in a crochet head scarve. taller and more willing to touch the place my bathing suit covers than another relative or any - - one alive.  

distance gave me a reason to create it, nighttime handed me a love story for beautiful = with-difference. 

these dances ultimately took off their clothes and lied side by side. 

the inclusion survey on policy.

space blanket sleep. 

power

alone

adaptation

strode

close 

when holding still becomes movement

recall the hands that caught a body as it fell in the well
the discussions they had, and too finger printed

monochromatic dresses tell the world that they mean business, pleasure, sorrow, wagon wheels, & sometimes feelings like hate
in most of those minutes - we - build a space in our homes for holding one another
i/we/you construct a thing, utilize it far beyond intention, and entirely negate it the following whatever
the same schism in our bodies somehow looks like ways to squeeze out comfort, and is immediately broken down for recycling
if schisms, built spaces, mouths, love or house-holds were ajar without owners they may fill up with bits of others
spaces expand when the dress is on a floor or a body

in through the nose, out through the mouth, every piece as anthropocentric as this thought & those prior  
the past of wrapping finger prints around things and making them our own, occurs as often as we admit the answer to our existence
from the shoulders of morose giants, shout inquiry, shield an impact, create a list of followers & the litigations therein
distant din of cages closing, reminding us all of love and that we are also animals in these same pages we are described as - their - creators

i have water that dunks my head and allows the baby to be named Cathartic, questioning its -will-
shortly after a screen appears, allowing for the answers, removing the marrow aching tabula rasa
back to shoulders & hips & lips all spilled more breath into things and never poked at where those came or where wind will end
to draw our graphs as circles, weighted in place but not without connection, draw a bath, draw form a snapshot memory
time capsules may not hold fingerprints to the narrative we care to uncover

proof from under the nails, skeletal without withholding, prints long fallen away
a pillar named Catharsis,  supine naked by an empty altar, in all the ways empty can be