More in The Personal Space of Norman Milliken
we filled out pockets
we filled our pockets
with the air
we would need.
when the atmosphere thinned,
the way turned to stones.
one handful of breath
at a time
from those pockets,
once heavy with years,
then strangely emptied
out.
fingers full of everything
we missed
for so long.
each step became
the way we walked.
we lost weight and glided along.
I wondered: if I stumbled
and began to sail away,
could I empty
my pockets quickly enough
to settle down?
night came. we wished
we had thought to bring blankets.
just imagine.
every other step,
putting our hands
to our mouths
as though we were born
to do this.
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- » Jul 2007 (505 pages)
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