Day 12: Anticipation

open the door of the house envisioned
you will fall
through the floor you didn’t
think to dream necessary, and
below that, the basement never
featured in fantasies.

what we build, so much 
more than what appears.


dreaming of my old house
reveals how i am tangled
in the leap, and the net that appeared

it is not below me.


what is that thrumming? partridge
wings in a forest that will remain
promise to remember, there are songs

there are dancers in the forest hall.


sometimes a road 
is just a road, you don’t know 
how many destinations it might hold
striped gravel rolling underfoot, dust 
groaning in the branches beyond 
the weedy ditch where frogs assess
the vision and foundation
of their watery arrival.

i can’t wait. and then
you find you did. and
what had you been
building in the meantime?

open the door. 

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