By Dee Wilcox
November 3, 2024
Form and formlessness
I am a ghost
Moving through space and time
I hover near you
Cold hands reaching out
Unable to grasp, unable to hold
My edges bleed over, into yours
The pixels and particles of Who I Am
Spread thin and dissipate
I want to draw lines
Give myself an edge, a shape
A container to hold me
I want to feel the moving edge of
