The Embawdiment Poem

When I’m free from myself everything is just like a body. When I’m free from myself I’m just like a body. I have joints and muscles and liquid and empty space and electricity. There’s no secrets in me when I’m free. Nor desire for any. So music comes, so music goes. Places float in and places flow out. I read my lines, I do my choreography. I’m somewhere for a moment. I send a message. I do a dish, maybe sing a song we love. I love you from time to time. We go somewhere and return. I thrust my pen to some surface, remembering my spine is behind my face. My body falls away from itself in a million different directions. I leave myself alone, putting attention on the other person for once. My sits bones move back and up as my legs fall forward, leaving me weightless, without effort suspended in balance proximal only through feet to the ground. This is how I stay dis-attached from things. I fixate on how back and up is just the absence of forward and down. My jaw loosens, my eyes sprawl like wings through my visual field. Taking me somewhere. I extend by recognizing the absence of extension. I go in by going out. We meet there sometimes. I magnetically, you receive. We go toward each other. When my body empties like that I have all this time in my hands. And suddenly something alights in my vision. I lint roll a concept of myself. My heels move forward and back behind my torso. My knees move forward. My knees that are also my thighs and shinbones. My legs, the ones that are only ever in front of my torso. I heard a miracle in the faucet this morning. Spewing music I notice dancing all around me. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is mine.