Spun

I’m spinning with the earth,

so fast that I can’t even tell if its clockwise or counter.

Like a whirling dervish

I take my place in nature.

 

A train cuts through the valley

rumbles and

tumbles

roaring a horn

that expands into the atmosphere,

like the universe into nothingness;

with a center that is everywhere and nowhere.

And so long as it’s heard,

I’m there.

 

I can feel myself reaching

usually backwards, to grab a piece of the past and bring it with me,

slingshotting the memories into a future me. And this is how I live,

pulling and pushing

never really finding center,

because I’m always feeling that I’ve got to try

so goddamn hard

just to keep my feet from spinning out from under me.

When will I realize

that it’s the trying that’s killing me,

and there are no feet to keep anyway.