BPD

Your mission is swim forward even and especially when finches lie dead on country roads and the hole is the sky is the toothless mouth of the world All the while you're waiting shabby little violin student, shabby little violin, wheeling laps around bad habits in efforts to study them keep going. Any minute now the sky will change again from light grey to purple-grey. someone will undo the latch and the instrument will sound, find you standing and knocking at the door of your body, where finally the dripping maples the rain the dusk clouds, lime green finches ---even your tiresome self--- will let you in.