Being

I'm standing with my arms full
cardboard boxes
soggy and collapsing,
somedays
strands of twisted twinkle lights
my arms lacerated
and quaking
in and out
of this plane,
this reality a funny thing
like television static.

I had no extra arm to adjust my
antenna, clear up the screen and
stop the shaking.
I have lost my vertical hold,
melting into the dented boxes,
the broken lamps
and twisty remains
I try to unravel
in my arms
with bleeding fingers.

One thing
I tug at and the
entire universe moves
under my feet,
threatening to topple me
a rogue wave out
of left field.
I am looking with all my eyes,
who's stealing bases
in my field?

This is where I'm rooted,
splayed feet all crooked
toes into a shifting fabric,
no footholds
in Mount Everest,
this is not a mobile
carnival rock wall
with fanciful grips.

Proverbial fishing and 
my hook pulled up the entire
sea,
I realize everyday,
there is nothing
but everything.

I hold water in my fingers,
let it go,
and I know it's still there,
98% of me.
2% is the knowledge of the other 
part. 

And so I am attached forever to the
soggy moving boxes,
the tangled lights,
one thing is really
everything.