by Brian Windschitl

very soon my body will not exist as it does now

this year i have a plan to turn my arms and legs into the season of autumn
my fingers and toes will turn yellow and then brown and then black and fall off my body

maybe some of my hair will fall to the ground and in the spring the follicles will take root
and grow into a separate human being who looks like me and acts like me but really isn’t

each one of my ribs can be a river that runs to my spine and pools in the estuary of my

every once and a while i’ll have to drain the excess water by standing on my hands and
letting it pour out of my eyes and ears

i am inhaling so much wind that one day i’ll just start floating upwards and never come
eventually, i’ll be so light i will separate from my own body and just float around the
universe as a thought

my very pulse is an independent entity living inside my body that is very sad and very
lonely and barely makes any sound

it has lived in darkness its entire life and only responds to the whistle of the wind, 
to the rush of the rivers inside

i wonder if my pulse can feel what i feel

i wonder if the silence is the same


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