Status

I write now

As my mind has been

In so many places alive

As of late

That I fear not death

Or in some ways to die

But here

In this place of minor space and breath

I wait

For the words to beath

And speak their lungs into

A smokey existence new

And for that I wait

And for as much time take

I sit until such a speech is renewed

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Through the doorway into meaning

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Crackle me, a tanka