R y a n D o w n u m


I am anxious and afraid. I am anxious and afraid watching my clothes spin dry in the
laundromat. I am anxious and afraid outside in the smoke-filled air and have
something to give you. I have something to place in envelope bodies, shaking

and glittering. 

glittering and smoke and smoke and smoke
then snow. Snow glimmers to sprawl and litter. To hold
your hand before I fall apart—
to fall apart, shape
then blur.     FIREHORSE you are radiant beautiful and a shape 
through the bright.

FIREHORSE if you translate the beaming and coiling, translate
an earth pew into the snow, I can braid you
from a sentence, a dialogue loosening
smoke wires.

If this place is here / is home / is my body tried / is brimming from the Palouse, then

            one is a new place is a new home is a calendar.

One can look past the gridlocked street, flutter a harbor, return a shopping cart to a corral
  and mean nothing or mean something to carry enough.