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It is

on August 28, 2020

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It is
something that is
and i may prod It
turn It over
throw It
take measurements
and philosophise Its
meaning
existence
but It
in a wood
is there
without you or i
denying
It is

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Copy Cat

Sometimes my great ideas Are never mine at all; In fact, it's more than half the time I imitate the ingenuity on my neighbor's wall. But it must be so much harder In this day and age Of speed-of-light technology To think a thing before you find it On someone else's page. I guess my only consolation Of being beaten to the punch Is that there are twice as many bad ideas I've never had to thunk.

Portrait of an INFJ

No one knows what I am; I don't. I cannot stop thinking. I don't trust. I feel so much of the world; if I could show you, it would incinerate you. I hopelessly ache to receive the love I would give. I hide away, for no one understands: the press of oceans and universes threaten to burst from my skin. I know what you're thinking, what you're feeling, while you judge me as I'm not. I cannot stay, I cannot run. I will not die. I am alone.

Response to a Letter

My Love, The words I wish to speak do not exist. I can only hope that you understand what I now say because you also feel it. I am held by you the way I'm held by the sea. Though time and distance may keep me far away, the salt air and cold swells pull me, call me. And when at last we are reunited, it's all I can do not to throw myself into the waves and let them take me. I look at you like I look at the stars on a clear night; full of wonder at how close they are to me. I hardly comprehend their brilliance. It's overpowering, greater than I remember. They radiate hope, dreams, goodness I can only hope to touch, to mingle with. All these things that I love, all these things that draw me, are in you–draw me to you. You asked that I promise to love you–if it's truly me you spoke to–and all I can say is, since long ago, I already have. Completely Yours,

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It is

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