I write about time too much,
I write about breathing too much,
I write about water too much,
but if you follow, you can see the
patterns and the recurring themes
I’m sorry to say that it will
probably never leave.
It is only a pattern looping in
A desire to fix the broken ticking
of time, or to name my personal
problem with this man-made thing,
in hope that you may find your
own frustrations inside of me.
That the breath is something
for me just out of reach
and I write about it
Come to me that that I call
with what little oxygen is in me;
let breath come.
Water being of a pressing ideal
let it run from me, I am drowned.
I do not apologize for water,
what I cannot control,
pressing into cases and holes that
should remain dust.
And what is constantly looping through what has been,
take it in the way that you need to.
I hope it feeds you.
If it doesn’t,
if you find nothing in the owl pellet,
please put it back,
I don’t know why you thought to
pick up such a dirty thing in the first place.