Breath In, Breathe Out

July 22, 2013

Breath in a land so small
that even dancing angels must collide—
a pinprick, a postage stamp,
an image held in the mind so long
it has become an experience.
It must have known birth
and believed in death to be out there.
It is a breath of us.
Breathe in, breathe out.

Breath is a breeze renowned
for its narrow imagination.
As the line that divides here from there
grows longer, his one good arm grows in an arc
extending earthward into
a microscopic existence.
Yet he strips our clothes
and steals them (indeed) like a thief.
Breathe in, breathe out.  Again.
Breath in, out.


2 Responses to “Breath In, Breathe Out”

  1. extrasimile Says:

    Oh, I’m sure you are, Anna, especially when you are in a land so small even the dancing angles must collide, especially if you identify your ‘self” with the breath and you breathe in and out, Where are ‘you’ going? Is the process best handled by a verb or a noun?

  2. Anna Mark Says:

    Jim, is his one good arm our exhale? I am one who enjoys to sit and breathe, to watch how my thoughts (my imagination) narrow as I enter the stream of breath more and more deeply. Yes, it strips our clothes, our bones even. Sometimes, I have to touch my chest to make sure I’m still here ; ) of course, I always am, right?

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