dis intega tion looped

I imagined knocking over each of these facades, now cardboard and wood,
leaving me standing in a wide-open courtyard with no statues or objects
of any kind to consider or use to orient myself to size and
proximity. Judgment begins to flounder like the single pupil
determining distance without the aid of another. In this minimal
landscape I

am theonly point of ref

erencethe only point

to be

referenced. That's a tough role. I cannot help but think about the f
ace of my grandfather's horse
when you fed him. Like God somehow confident
in his sustainability through the small offerings
he knows will be given. I only
rode him once before we
both got old. In terms
of being broken, you could say we went our separate ways.

How wonderful this feeling, if it can be
called

that,
of power and freedom, and this is exactly what I tell
myself myself as fear starts to set in and
I drop to the level beneath me

to let all my
pieces go