sometimes i feel that i'm floating. flying. soaring.

today i am a kite, buoyed on sharp ocean winds. i am sailing and below me civilization forms a road map to myself.

doops and loops and curlicues and i am so thoroughly alive in this moment. cellar door is not the most beautiful phrase in the english language and that bag can circle on itself over and over again without me discovering the crushing beauty of it.

instead, i trace cracks in asphalt and the soft green growth between to the center of myself. i settle there and find comfort.