surfacing raze the stones in my pockets won't beat back the wolves that wait to make a meal of me when my legs give out. nor will the way we dance, leaving everyone to scatter and celebrate our absence after we're gone. but i'm not willing to throw these things away. i climb into a clean car feeling as scraped out as i ever have and watch myself move across a map of the world. i drive through froth-flecked streams and listless lakes licked by land. somehow still breathing each time i surface. let me show you what water does to wood. how rain hydrates the cellulose in its cell walls and breaks the hydrogen bonds that keep the fibres fed. how the scraped knee of a downed tree can be reborn as foam rubber when it's been wept on long enough. this is how we warp and weave without wilting. this is how we die without losing our lives. 250917 what's it to you? who go blather from