how to enter a dress *

stop dying.
yes, it is like falling.
no, it is not togetherness.
hung, rather, in convex systems (condensing above a human barrier, what expectation looks like).
more nimble, sure.
it is like this: a hand, and then another. no need for an interpreter. these things we know, how to dress.
how to enter.
perhaps the door can open by itself and let in everyone who have currents to lend to the increasing chorus,
warning, transitive.
and the almost a river.
which may or may not have been exposed to constraint, which may or may not have been numbered, detailed, felt, watched, talked to, prescribed.

promise me an old city
with some carriage, pulling into mist,
our projects
and measurements
delighted.

promise me the Indian boy with braids on the school bus.
promise me forever beautiful knees.
the whole of our lives.



*draft