words,
in their specificity
elude me, as does any one flavor
in my mouth this morning.
their's a jumbled blending
a pull-apart distinctive disrelation,
and questions,
so many questions dancing..
questions that may or may not benefit,
to ask
to receive answers to
possible story-lines run races
through my inner fields, laughing
and tripping each other in the high grass
there is a confused sadness, an elation
i am satiated
i am full
i am wondering
i am appalled
i am all of these things
and many more,
a stew-pot cauldron of nebulous
and crystalline
happenings.
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