bi an unfoldin

There are several versions of the line that you can draw. i am bi an unfoldin, tapered as a wick child waiting for its saluting blaze. there was a summer on that hill. 

i didn't let the piano finish, now it has to start again.

so es i sei, i am bi an unfoldin in the world, sitting thinking about whether i should be sitting while sleeping with part of myself tucked away. it doesn't look like anything, if you're asking. here's a question: have you ever wondered what the world would be like if there were just shadows, and no peaks nor pencils to cast them. just silhouettes and witnesses noting surfaces as they creep along the sun, which would exist, so as to cast.

the piano just started again,

and an uphilling grace that pushes me to encounter. imagine a world of paper, you fall into it and the folds and creases soften your gravity, and you amble through, folding the world as you go looking for where you're going. you look back and see a long trench marking where you have walked, a long way from hope and aspirations. this world just holds your attention and the attention you paid to where you were going. it learns you as a crane, as you fold.

this time the piano finished

there's the contour of the keys, a long white set of teeth in a stuck jaw that manages to voice its concern by being pressed into its gums, and we take that for melody, you and i. we take that for beautiful. but i think i'm finding something else, bi this unfoldin: the question whether i am inside the unfoldin. the air is perfumous, slowly condensating on the walls of my nostrils and my ears are whispering the breezes of the chattering songs. i'll find questions, when i'm asking questions as i am now, bi this unfoldin. i find myself wondering whether i should be in motion, shifted

then there's a silence, and my awninged eyelids want to fall for the night, so i resume my place bi the unfoldin, from where i'd never left but through door's thinking, and i continue to wander