here, the yin

black stillness is

my bend in the river

for five minutes

a stretch

 

paper lanterns low

almost dark

with little white dots

feel light and weight

interconnected

at the edge—

hot surrender is

one sweaty thought

the uncomfortable comfort

 

here, the yin

hold a pose

hear my breath, try

in through nose

out of mouth— sigh

 

five minutes of

broken lines

interconnected

at the edge—

my whole is

greater than my parts

 

here, the yin

About troysherdahl

A blue-collar bohemian with a penchant for fine words and dirty jeans.
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