Got to lose this skin
I’m imprisoned in
-The Clash
time to undream
-Michael Palmer
an unraveling like a sweater
we cocooned in over winter
not so much an escape
into a reasoned day
as a move, a shift,
like a hermit crab
jumping shell to shell
before scuttling off
unconcerned down the beach
and yet what’s left behind
remains with us, traces
like cobwebs or palimpsests
reinscribing another line,
another letter, carved into another
meaning measured in memory’s
capacity to reconceptualize in metaphor
yet another way to reweave, reconnect
the frayed fabric of our life
subtext 