shaving the hair from my face
and neck happens whenever
it feels like something else
clings with substance
and the same logic applies
to the hair on my head which
grows unruly in all directions
requiring electric clippers
shearing it off into the sink
and i never look quite right
and i never know what to do
exactly so it isn't much
different from yard work
but every bit as much
trouble

soft light blue
faded through time
body stains ripped
holes under arms
back ripped neck
such a familiar
feeling on skin
another old friend
lost in the wear
to the garbage bin

moving my body
in shapes pulled out
  to be folded in
sometimes spurs dreams
making perfect sense
until later, when
the mind returns
   to rule
like a tyrant
believing himself
beyond human concerns

but i try
to remember more
what i learn
without my brain
   entirely
telling me what is
  such as
control is brittle
unless surrendered
to the human breath
which expands
   allowing
the unaligned
to find on their own
the unique symmetry
of the imperfect
discovery of
   balance