Momentum is about your mom too, the moment the omen goes numb on truth we use the word healer and mean your mother then too, that moment is about her. Just like every/one/thing/ keep it one hundred but hide it from the natty dread types who drag the muse out of you like a raspy film reel until it settles in reeds and rent/ that rhythmic amber transparency like forgetting is entered or rendered on the spirit as a trick and a trap or trust (fund) rather and the habitual release like an aptitude for new birth and the beginning of a new birth goes: meet me tomorrow early in the morning and bring your knife— the soundbite flutters toward the heart to discover why this barbaric solitude of ours is inevitable and charged with will and most of the time we cannot tell the difference between hope and happening until one or the other disappears (triumphantly, by joining the other), meet me tomorrow early in the morning and don't disappear, I commanded, knowing full well
And what is the love of theater like,
from the inside that is,
for the actor you once were and would perhaps like to be again
