What to say
when you
have
so much
to say?
Nothing
abstract –
just what
you
know, what
you
feel, and
what gets
stored
away.
The grip of
the
mind and/or the
heart begs
to
begin
again,
somewhere
that’s
like a
forest to tear down.
(We build doors with wood
from forests, after all.)
That look,
with the
shadows of
green,
is a bad
fit when
fitting in
is in fashion,
when the
steady knock-
knock of
luck and life
seems like
a joke, a fist,
and not an
invitation at all.
