The Story

History is the realm of dust

    of person-as-maker before too

much corruption came into the

    world as if we could never be

subject to the same force, the

    same dread, like an extended

monologue fighting to create

    a balance with you which is a

version of what we all desire

    even fight for as we are less

concerned with a formality

    achieved conceived poise but

with ferocious forces like a

    Siberian shaman beautifully

covering up and yet disclosing

    the signs of her work:  as your

signs are my signs:  feeling

    our way, like the shaman, with

line breaks, blank spaces and

    italics making visible the

stumbling, almost hanging

    on, and wanting to feel like

it's the same way.