193poem

May 14, 2011

These building walls
are a paper-thin cage
I call city and you call home.
We bend here holding ground
as if a hurricane rolled over
the tragic air we breathe.

It has been proven
natural similes make everything alright.
Everything is alright, like meadows gleaming.

Even this cage feels less wall-like and curvy
knowing it was once tree or treelike
in some organic way—

Don’t mind the city
reference nor forget that words are thoughts
coiled into symbols by someone else’s mind.

Your bedroom is not a square
full of loose parts that will never be put back
together again. Everything is alright,
like orchids in a storm.

LOCATION: Buenos Aires, Argentina – Scribbled in notebook after pedaling 6,500 miles across South America; many mixed feelings about reaching my final destination.

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