Poetry - poiesis means a thing made.
Life pulls softly inside your bindings. The pod glows - dear stench.
Could you visit me in dreams? That would cheer me. Sweet to see friends in the night, however short the time.
Lava bread makes you passionate.
Myths are stories about people who become too big for their lives temporarily, so that they crash into other lives or brush against gods. In crisis their souls are visible.
We're talking about the struggle to drag a thought over from the mush of the unconscious into some kind of grammar, syntax, human sense; every attempt means starting over with language. Starting over with accuracy.