A house before house

scroll

A house, my house, before house, with the sun of late afternoon and the warmth of presence though unknown

there is an orange tree with a crack in its trunk that leads to the world when the oranges grew first and trees after

There is a shifting of fabric of saris, there is a presence that is known it is mine the clothes are white or cream or somehow pale

In the closet if you hide long enough you come out in a different world

The blanket under the tree was red and it was a cut tree, held up and in water by screws and nails.

there is a greyness but the smell is there. But not unpleasant.

there is a harshness

when you tie swords to your hands and cut your way out of a cocoon.

This is a lightness it is running on a hill in a backyard with yellow flowers

the inside of a flower splits and grows unbridled ~~baby horses~~ ~~ponies~~ peonies