the big contraction

the clouds give

the sky a kiss

until she wets

all in the shapeless

ecstasy of all there

is

*

it’s alright

is said when

it isn’t alright

and when there

is nothing to say

anymore

*

i’m scrapping by

with these scraps

that i hope can later

be joined together to make

me feel made and less like

me with all those feelings

of not doing enough

never enough

always more

for i was more always

born into a small section

of a universe that

still grows

while daily

i shrink back to it

less scrappy than

before