I dry my hands, close my waters, | I'm encased. | The air breaks itself, | then mends. | Sitting still, removed from distinctness. | A firebrand is thrust at my chest | and I don't cringe. | God sits fierce, playing with his holy Lego set | building blocks and skies of belief. | God is far and tethered, | drawn within me, a kindergarten watercolor. | Time derails, | yesterday crashes into tomorrow. | Things are pushed much too far. | They loom moving in a place | that's all in pieces. | Incoherencies, | depth, power lines, forgotten messages, | shaking through hushed air. | A dissolving, now a transparency. | The center can't hold the edges. | I've changed the clocks, | the sun's obstinate. | I pull the berries from your hair | and put them in your hands, ever outstretched. | The house collapses, my head is the world | A glass ball with a leaden lining. | I'm lost in leaves, | chilling, chilled to a dull.