I Can’t Be Bled

I love meditations and vibrations of my skin in the cold grocery store aisle.

Life is good.  Even crying I love.

Ear massage by my tears

swing down to the jawbone

to trace tracks of tears so slow.


I’m more confident now coming through the clouds

of fallen jokes

like I can show my face after all

live life in a canyon

like oh life is rich


though no hay for my bed

I can’t be bled

blood is for family and for spirit brethren.

I split bread with those closest

and make eye contact with those passing

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