star.

out here

there is no star i could reach

that wouldn't spin its tail and smolder at me,

smiling.

this sky is a big, fat risk.

and something about the weightlessness

worries me.

and something about the weightlessness

wisens me

with wonder.

what if nothing ever landed, but fell

in infinite upwardness,

instead?

what if everytime I unspool a word from my heart,

the gods might gallop with applause?

maybe every bit of this crumpled mess of rough drafts and star maps is

the exactness of love.

and

we just have to unfold our hands

to

know

it.