Foundations

The house I wrote in became an apartment for the ocean, then a zoo for the innocently maladjusted, then a garden for dreaming cats, then floor-space - just floor space to walk back and forth on. The room I find these words in, these metaphors, these bewilderment’s of a younger blood, flood me now in my condo-maze-ment, my spindle-boned easement. Once I was a simile, similar to something else, a green fracture, the unseasoned sap of an analogy, now I am upholstered, a place roomy enough for returning younger words, their brain dizzying songs. revisiting, unearthed, as if they had just come to me, and had not been arriving from abandoned living-spaces, from the forgotten foundations of elsewhere.