four threes are trees heading home from Exchanging Intentions (preverbs )

by George Quasha

 

 

The space between me and what I touch breathes freer today.
It’s possible now to say what keeps saying itself.
Ask my hand, it knows the other way home.

Things talk in the dark.
I say what I hear.
Fear fails to fill the gap.

Grief forgets to be a boat floating on its happiness.
No one tells need but it needs to tell.
Cut loose, the trail is following.

Take it personally like everything.
Speak only to yourself as everyone hears trees.
Any angle opens the world from the beginning.