Feel

I chase
blue breath,
grinding teeth
on the brickwork
of now.

Bury your
computer

in the soft

rubble of churned

nature.

Which secrets

do you want

to dwell inside,

Those of copper

or chlorophyl?

I chase

the sweet misery

of warm rain;

more fruitful for sentience

than dry buildings.

Insipid barricades

shelter infant nerves

from all feeling

and thus from

growth.

A Poem about why I like to be outside. Written March 2013.