Hero, trickster, what…?
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Hero, trickster, what…?
Low sun autumn sky
Those I pass by in the world
Each flawed each perfect
In friend’s safe presence
The mask begins to dissolve
Sun feels warm again
September 22, 2024
Surely, one day this well will run dry.
We take on different shapes for different rooms.
Do I do better with or without it?
If I were to suddenly die unexpectedly, no warning at all, no time to prepare; part of me today wants all of these words spread to all who knew me.
But the catch here is that I can’t care about any of it after I’m gone, so it really makes no difference either way.
Last week I learned the term “penguin pebbling”…
My face has never felt complete
Blurry, shifting, I could never get it to settle
Into any one coherent personality
Rather, I wish I was better at conversation so I wouldn’t need to be.