Edges

My mortal bones.

My mortal bones creak as they move.

They creak as they move from one state of being to another.

From one state of being to another, forced through like grass growing through concrete.

But these are just my bones, my solitary want for structure, meaning nothing

I point to the hill and the river and the marsh for the creaking in my bones

My bones ache, because the landscape can be unforgiving.

This landscape that I am forced upon that is forced upon me

forced upon me, I keep saying, forced upon me....

My mortal bones.

My mortal bones tell a story that must be true.

A story that must be the solid, right, factual reality Truth of why I ache

I ache.

So I sway in my corner and listen to my bones.

My bones' rythymic creaking is predictible

Predictible in each state of being, in easch marsh and field and mountain

Marsh, field, and mountain states of being that somehow begin to blend

Into one flat smeary image on a tattered canvass

A tattered canvas is not a mountain or marsh or field

So why do my mortal bones creak