That eviction happened so long ago I’d forgotten, sea zipped tight as a drum. Like gulls that mistake car parks for ocean, big fish on little ponds growing littler think they own the waterfront, have no idea where little fish school these days when there is nothing much left of little ponds, fail to notice there is no waterfront to own. My head’s been full of empty as long as I can remember, and the sky has room for only one star and the moon, waning. It used to take forever to count the stars in the sky, but it takes no time to count to one, twice that if you count the moon. Ocean’s full of mountains, and there’s nothing to climb. You’d be surprised how long that takes; and the air is thin at the top. Mile high planets bend up from the bottom. You think you’re on top of the world standing on them, but they haven’t broken the surface. My head’s under water and I lost my gills long ago. I am going to have to go somewhere where I am immersed in something I can breathe for a change. SS next>

this is the speech of my hands poetry by Christopher (Kit) Kelen and Steven Schroeder | images by Kit Kelen