Abundance is scooped from abundance yet abundance remains.
As a writer one has to take the chance on being a fool.
Rats live on no evil star
Then all this became history. Your hand found mine. Life rushed to my fingers like a blood clot. Oh, my carpenter, the fingers are rebuilt. They dance with yours.
I have been cut in two.
The windows, the starving windows that drive the trees like nails into my heart.