Wednesday January 4, 2017
If you could dip your toes
in the fine sands of dry rivers
you might be able to stop time.
Perhaps you would
unearth my last wild steps
or exhume a fresh form
of ancient breath
maybe even find
the defeated tracks
of lonely beasts.
That river was once the wet way out.
Now it's the dusty red path through
because exits are a phenomenon of yesterday.
All escape routes will converge eventually.
But lets get back to those fine sands,
the soft forgiving ones
the ones that lend themselves
to prayers, whims, and dancing
to magic, faith, and writing.
P. P. P.
Ahora: retomo el pie forzado original de este archivo digital - documentar mi práctica diaria de movimiento en la orilla en 100 palabras