natashast.deniswinnipeg

this is the open ended and under
handed spectre dream of
things like leonard cohen singing
hallelujah in a french cafe
and natasha the
photographer on
random rue. st. denis left me
so sad for a winnipeg
thanksgiving it was
like a heavy slow pulling at my
ribcage
or a thousand bright sparkling
borealis of
winter nights we are
thinking in abstract concepts
now and there
are no
concepts left to think
of or
to go on
except to
go on, safely,
in celebration of every
square inch of
being and to
go on in moments of tired endless
overstimulated heart-sad reason and to
go on

with heart.