Tempting as it is, to turn inward, write of long Winter and why
capture in ice outshines
the languid motion of sharing
tempting as it is, you are the subject not I.
A linguist of worlds
using your machine to stitch together discrepancies
you see no undertow
only thick muscles of rowing souls, garnering energy toward shoreline
and I envy you, Neon Dahlia
your simple, productiveness
how from nothing, comes nothing and still ..
unaware you are treading water.
I could tell you
look here, can’t you see? The futility
but I already know your answer;
what is futile, is in the mind
all else, just imagined sabotage
here in this seized moment, is the bare humus of your life
you live only once, don’t you want to fill it with all the experience you can gather?
your arms aching with fullness like flower sellers under hot tarp…
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