it’s almost time for a confessional. let’s bathe our feet while we dance sediment wash. baptism in the chemical sand trekking through the barriers that barely stand in touch with invariance. writing love letters. barely legible; sun setters cantaloupe sky. dusk settles. what’s warm love in november? it’s cranberry cheeks. your tongue tingling. teeth surrendering ourselves to eruption. lungs blistering. freeze i’ve talked to god on occasion. mention mary and seph’ carried a mountain on my shoulders through a valley of death i’ve longed for delay. had a walk through nirvana hoisted a banner reading ‘i want to be craved’ we just want to be loved. we just want to partake. on a trotting that doesn’t involve being numb noticed your aura carrying breath…