she used to live under her hometown, the world (iii.)

whether her work was for the world or her living was of the world

or her site and hiding was in the life that was the world

and that her abode and abiding was of the world, of that world

with addresses and the immutability of the moment, does it matter, it does,

if living is not the facts and events and ounces and inches of lost time and place.

 

why did i come to live here, why will i be sewn into this sack

bought centuries for me ago dedicated to the task of loving me

beyond sight or hope or knowledge, from the dry-goods store

and its circuit of peddlery and why was i not thrown out long ago,

why not denied entry into the battered door.

and why.)

 

 

Done