embodied
I wake to the clay of myself locked in its own tectonic dreaming,
blinded by the press of time's archival layering,
gravity's tough love, a yearning toward
an unreachable center.
I sublime at the jagged edge
gasping for resurrection.
I wake to the clay of myself locked in its own tectonic dreaming,
blinded by the press of time's archival layering,
gravity's tough love, a yearning toward
an unreachable center.
I sublime at the jagged edge
gasping for resurrection.
to transform from a solid to a gas, and then cooling again to a solid without becoming liquid.
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Lisa B King. All rights reserved.
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