placelessness (2nd course)

continued from placelessness (1st sight)

            This is composed from restlessness — without a natural position to speak of or from, or any discrete habitat besides this late hour — when sleep is only dreamt.

From here, I usually recall habits that dwell-on as traditions: adoptations of individual properties nearer to wall-to-wall informalities acquired as traveling reenactments or bearings accustomed to boundless flight.

From my perspective, formative years of constantly moving never fully unpacked the peculiar effects.

In reality, this shouldn't be read as a completely pointless act — as a matter of course, it saves time — as well as cardboard boxes. Just re-tape, load into another rented truck & then go, once more . . .

. . . sometimes at night, in a hurry — other times, slow as an unsure decision — or back & forth like a rubber band stretched & released between thumb & index, extended to its touchy limit to only fall lax, smacking of a loose charm bracelet that's lost-it past projections reuniting again in a pinch . . .

A pinch can be a touch depending on whatever gets overfamiliar — even uneasily. &, belonging can become a personal possession.

            Maybe that's the spell of being a wanderer. After a while or a series of whiles, nothing surprises anymore, yet it's a new experience, more or less in & of itself . . .

. . . possibly, ever-presently sitting up, still awake as well, trying to resolve who that is staring from a mirror, speaking back in opposite:

a fever dream that makes insomnia seem like a gift from a cosmos that only fancies you to death & doesn't want to let you go

flying over your still shape like a zephyr hailing down illusions called meantime.

That's when I remember those places — these sections between ellipses — not sure of how they got to & from — just-there, then now-here — as nowhere as anyplace else — again — despite — somehow on a second course.