purposeful in its presence alone

the mountain road pulled the sinews out of my bones, peeled back my winter scar tissue and bandaged up my bruised brains ; Vermont heralds like a parcel of parched mountains pointing the way towards the present : the prescience of the prescribed notion that I should piece together my inner peace and place it on the precipice of permanence // the open sky is a mural, a cotton-gauze remembrance of the moment just passing, just passing, just passed // my heart is a tower, escalating, forever young, forever soft marrow // the ancient rockface has a name I do not know, the supple leaves have secrets I cannot speak; the satin sound of the sun keeps surrounding me, I keep melting into the molten misuse of the midsummer heat ;; people in every direction pour patience back at me; purpose in every rock presses back through my toes :: the heat swelters around like a shelter , the bass pumps the through the thighs of the mountain – up the incline — we all camp on the side of the hill, sliding down in our little ramshackle tents, gravity and grace on either side holding us up straight (barely) — we do not all fall down the mountain – gravity maintains, physics maintains, our muscles grope the climb up and down like insects on a mound ;; small we are : the mountain pulls like a raptor, like a father, like a parapet – purposeful in its presence alone

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