Room with the gray canvas windowblocker pulled down, swaying, echoes of powdercolor and babyshade bouncing off the four-angled flatsurfaces, it is a calm afternoon coolness.
Who wants to get into this box with me?
Look, it's a mess, me in my lumpbody, slumpbody, long-afternoon-decline-body, staying home to play in my wordboxes, wordmuddles, wordpuddles.
I like the prettycolor plastics and the things that came in all those bring-it-here-right-now brownboxes. The jumble of writerwands, buy-me-this tokens, paperflats, and dreamerboxes shifts and floats. In this deeperlight set of angled blueglowings and grayechoes, nothing shouts. I wait like a cat for the quiet whispers. For the syllables to settle down.