Boomerang

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Emily And

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Something unquiet finds me this morning
A restlessness
I want to go, I want to be elsewhere
But here is nice, too

I'm not afraid of anything; I've learned that
But static gets sticky over time
The longer I stay, the more I want to stay
But I don't want to want to stay
And I don't want to go away

Some inquietness resounds
And I reach beneath my feet
And strain to hear the sound of some language I don't know
In some far-off place I want to go
And wake up a stranger
And go to bed in love
And practice taking changes to stay unafraid of change

To change into something fearful
I be quiet, stick around
I'm not searching for an answer
I'm just trying to hear the sound
Of waking up in foreign languages
Stammering around brokenly
Saying things, but mostly emanating
Effervescent sounds

I touch the ground beneath my feet
I'm stepping on my hands
Can metaphors make meaning last?
Can paper tear down something that is built outside of words?

Will comfort keep me coming back?
Will strangeness mellow in my bones?
Can something distant take me home?

I know nothing
Is as quiet
As staying, so I'll go
But the flow of standing water's so conducive to what grows!
But it grows dirty! it dries up and then
Where are the tadpoles to go?

In spinning plates, in balancing tables
Here my thoughts go round and round
Like a bird soaring in circles
Down

I peck the ground beneath my feet
It makes an awful sound
I pick up dirt and fling it southwards
And it comes right back around

It just goes, without a sound
It just goes and comes around
It just goes...
And comes around

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