Photo Courtesy Of The Author.

Seven Gates

I drag the burden of my estimated weight — minus my soul, seven stones boulted into seven grains of untouched intimations, of a muffled voice that cries in the hours of my dreams—

My soul a pitted drupelet that breaks through the membrane that encircles my world, hidden, and yet my nous offends me, it forms overlapping puffs as that of an endangered cloudberry that makes the the canopy of its drooping leaves, the only sky it dares itself to…