Studio LERIAL

a hundred days later

i still lay on the same bed

but with 100 tiny poems

now extracted from my head

.

rituals born from digital ink

and getting out onto the forest floor

witnessing the work of the wind

and writing what i saw

.

i send my salutations

gratitude for the grit and goo

to the stars and space that make us

to the good we keep and the good we lose