Fidgety is not something I am,
It is something I hold,
I act as if this timber’s got a mould—
as if I am so unconveniently tame,
as if I get chopped down
and told to behave,
as if my page rages
from the left
of the right,
as if the morning wakes up to tip the night.
on the way to nyc
[12/27/2016]
Summer-what? Summer-time.
Summer-who? Some of my disregarded emotions remark, “it’s been within me the entire time.”
“Meaning?”
“The magicK.”
THE POLITICS OF KENDRA 