let it flood

25May09

I’m letting the air out of my air mattress this morning

air that is full of old dreams

of old plans

old patterns

old places

I’m saying my prayers in the bath tub this morning

because I suspect water may carry them far further than air

these are prayers for nothing in particular

but the time between breathing in and breathing out

airy dreams of what is to come

have made my heart go stale

and its groping it’s flaying its aching

to flow into the river of promises kept only by not knowing

I don’t even know how to spell it yet

but my misspelling may be more perfect

than anything that is correct

my mishearing

my mistaking

my misjudging

may just be the tiny trickles toward my deepest mysteries

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