Not

It's not the energy reeling

Nor the lines in your face

Nor the clouds on the ceiling

Nor the clouds in space

It's not the phone on the table

Nor the bed in the earth

Nor the bed in the stable

Nor your stable words

It's not the formless being

Nor the cry in the air

Nor the boy I'm seeing

With her long black hair

It's not the open weaving

Nor the furnace glow

Nor the blood of you bleeding

As you try to let go

It's not the room

Not beginning

Not the crowd

Not winning

Not the planet

Not spinning

Not a rouse

Not heat

Not the fire lapping up the creek

Not food

Not to eat

Not the meat of your thigh

Nor your spine tattoo

Nor your shimmery eye

Nor the wet of the dew

It's not the warm illusion

Nor the crack in the plate

Nor the breath of confusion

Nor the starkness of slate

It's not the room

Not beginning

Not the crowd

Not winning

Not the planet

Not spinning

Not a rouse

Not heat

Not the fire lapping up the creek

Not food

Not to eat

Not what you really wanted

Nor the mess in your purse

Nor the bed that is haunted

With a blanket of thirst

It's not the hunger revealing

Nor the ricochet in the cave

Nor the hand that is healing

Nor the nameless grave

It's not the room

Not beginning

Not the crowd

Not winning

Not the planet

Not spinning

Not a rouse

Not heat

Not the fire lapping up the creek

Not food

Not to eat

Not to die

Not dying

Not to laugh

Not lying

Not the vacant wilderness vying

Not the room

Not beginning

Not the crowd

Not winning

Not the planet

Not spinning