dreamscapes in desertland
fuzzy faces so jpeg on my little screen this daisy chain of poets strung together across a field the size of our globe but flat and dark and gray and glitchy stu-stu- - - -ttering tech however eloquent and I wonder if it’s my connection or theirs how in the world are we still trying so hard to make contact from so far away tucked up in our houses and apartments I hide behind a blank gray avatar my video off as I lie back on my shag rug and stretch out all the tightness and hurt I’d forgotten I have been carrying close in my chest my neck my shoulders my hands reaching for connection but grasping empty “I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t desperately lonely” together in our tiny living room shoebox dioramas staring into a screen glow and although it feels more like dreamscapes in desertland I cling to your stories the mirages giving me something to preoccupy my mind so I’ll reach, not with fingertips but with my heart and my ears and these tears may flow as I’m moved by some liminal force floating up and out the crack in my old windows as I sprawl out to these chest opening meditations imagining some way through and writing my way out
