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                first you encounter steel-wool static
                                clouds of it
                like a noisy class in a bottomless afternoon
                                              then you
                remember to breathe and regroup yourself a little
                                                              too much
                and slip-slide away on grey silken handkerchiefs from
                                              one scene
                to another until it all just stops and then you can
                                get up
                and bustle around sorting out the house





breathing wormhole: letters to Mum VI – Years / after you have gone. Still.
clouds wormhole: To my Mum
doing & identity & life wormhole: not yet quite sure / what
grey wormhole: mass
sleep wormhole: darkness