almost_always raze i don't have recurring dreams. what i have are persistent themes. the most surprising thread, i think, is the one that weaves a runner out of me. i'm almost always out of practice. i've forgotten that this is what i do — wherever i am, whatever i'm wrestling with, i set aside some time to blur my bruised body with terrestrial flight. something more grave than guilt compels me to begin again. i expect to be winded from the first few steps. to feel my feral feet buckle beneath the weight of all the fear i've gathered like grass stains. to be too slow to save myself. certain i've seen the end of this film without knowing its name, i ask the cracked compass of my heart to guide me home. i take in the turgid air. and i run. 260809 what's it to you? who go blather from