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berry, bubble.


There was a time when i cared to wait…. when i lived to wait…. For plump perfect juicy words to roll from my mouth like berries from a white bucket overturned….. berries overtaking worn wooden tabletop…… bloom and skin taught ebony ink and fields…. hours of  ripe sunlight rolling over each other in tiny berry galaxies……..

Now…… things are different…… Tired……… White bucket wiped clean…. vertical light reflection… cylindrical smooth……  No more fruit to pour forth or become upset and overturned…… just plastic with the stains wiped away…… empty bucket empty table…. 

Yet…… i still breath.  And….. i still close my eyes… and lids laden heavy with deep river water just want to sometimes stay shut…… and wish i could just….. float……. river water rolling over me…… buckets and buckets of roaring falls…. wrap over me in pillars of wave….. smooth river rocks and cobbles press across my chest……….. a watery place to breath and feel silent…..

And tiny ephemeral orbs…. air and opalescent floating from my mouth….. hours of  silent  shadowy dream depths rolling over each other like tiny opalescent bubble galaxies….

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