Shapeshift

My skins pile up in the yard,

each one a crinkling cage I mourn.

I watch them crumble in the sun

beside the offerings I leave

Somehow I found a way to be simultaneous-

this body floats an inch off the ground 

and the movie in my head

filibusters reality, painting an A on its face

Here I see many faces, in walls, trees, windows;

a foreign rain softly ringing

some hidden choir 

or cracked door.

I am not one to take things lightly,

For instance: when I found the Other Side 

I choked on the pill-

I met with Death and it was good.

Reborn each day 

I scent the room with smoke,

herbs like iron keys;

a clicking tesseract