Breathing last life
when the world makes its mark on your mind
it is the last of the last...the little song of the keeping pen...
a pen shattered and made to look like a dancing little want...
a dance that hides and unhides...this is the story we keep
last stories are kept in the attic...the attic of the dream...
dreaming last life...a life of last water flowing...river...
our river forming at the edge of knowing...our reality
is something that is almost unsayable...almost unknowable...
listen carefully to the words we speak to each other...
last moments...
almost dead...
breathe...
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