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.
