in happiness

In happiness and in sadness, I find my place between the lines.

The line above my hammock, the line below the grass I
Murmur with my foot.

It is doubtless that the crooked ground I walk on does not match,
But it still does. I have found myself between these words, wherein I lie a child.
Home, I say, I find in these lines where no ink runs and yet carries on
And I carry one wherever I go.

All around, I promise you, I will build around a world of words.

I lost myself second in a flock of blossoms, and loud purple flowers,
Which stained these walls with truths you rarely said
-But you painted them so beautifully I will

hold them to the sky.
And so their wings still flap the same bold verses,
Changing, forever and lift up from palms extending.

                c   a       s

Particles carry small crumbs of sun, c      a  

                      a        d

                          ff       i

                         fff n

                      g

                         fff          

between our eyes,

And from our arch ed backs they flower, new
Ways to look up at the sky.

So crooked- doubtlessly so- your life in my own I know-                       Yes!
Spaces     !       and s tu tters enough    
For me to find a hammock, and for you to set one up.

               am

             I

   So

I am happy with yours and you
In the lines where you, for me, exist.
Finally, and as though I am a life,

I find my place between the lines; losing
Having to be one.



And so,        
       I.