baby spirit descending from the trees on a spider thread. 


i said to s. i was depressed and went in a room and worked and she said that's not depression and i said it was getting high on the abyss. melodrama. something like that, stopping on a mountain road curve looking down into the updraft at a gnarled wreck feeling my groin hurtling down as my heart wafted in danger, safe. the dreams i had of running, one thing i was good at awake, running the sheer edge of the abyss, the same endless direction every night. you could say this way of living, it goes nowhere, in thrall.